


It's the thing they don't tell you

by Ivrigasked



Series: The Things They Don't Tell You [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz is soft af okay, Bookstore AU, Davy's just real shit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, If I can learn how to write it, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Possible Smut?, Simon's sad childhood, Slow Burn, Uni AU, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivrigasked/pseuds/Ivrigasked
Summary: Simon Snow has shared at least one class with Baz Pitch during every single term at Uni. Why is he always lurking? Why is he so rude? Why won't he stay out of Simon's way and his life? Doesn't the world class Pitch Bitch have anything else to do with his time? Simon can't even buy coffee, for Christ's sake.Baz Pitch has shared a class with Simon Snow during every single term at Uni. And Baz Pitch is a sucker. A sucker for blue eyes and copper hair. A sucker for quiet mumbling and chewed up pencils left on desktops. Too bad Simon Snow hates his fucking guts and avoids him to the best of his ability. He won't even get coffee, for Christ's sake.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: The Things They Don't Tell You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652728
Comments: 129
Kudos: 361





	1. About Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I don't have much to say right now, but I got a wild hair. Please enjoy, and don't forget that comments and kudos are my lifeblood. 
> 
> K bye~

**Simon **

Graduation is so close I can almost taste it. It’s been three long, painful years of homework assignments, tutorials, and late nights spent wanting to throw my textbooks at the wall of my flat. If it weren’t for Penny and her everlasting patience and her excellent tutoring skills, I’d have flunked out of Watford University after my first term. Now I only have one more. One more term. That’s all that’s standing between me and my degree. All that’s standing between me and my future. This is everything I’ve worked so hard for, everything I set my mind to. It’s uncertain, but it’s so real I can almost reach out and touch it, almost reach out and grab it between my fingers, if I just—

“Mr. Snow?” A voice calls. It’s breaks me out of my train of thought, and I realize I’ve been muttering to myself in the middle of a lecture. Looking up, I see everyone’s eyes have settled on me, mostly bored faces and raised eyebrows, and I feel my face heat under their collective gaze. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, sinking lower in my chair. My professor nods once, a concise movement, and dives seamlessly back into whatever it was he was going on about before I decided to act like a fucking lunatic in the middle of his class.

“I haven’t the slightest idea how it is that you’ve made it this far,” someone whispers from behind me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a single note since you started here.”

I turn sharply to find none other than Basilton Grimm-Pitch smirking viciously in the seat behind me. Why did it have to be him? Why does it always have to be him? 

“It’s only the first week, it’s nothing important yet,” I tell him. 

“How would you even know? You aren’t listening,” he says. 

“Is there something you actually need, or are you just being a prat?” I snap, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I need only for you to keep the babbling to a minimum this time, Snow. Some of us are actually trying to learn,” 

“Come off it, Baz,” I sigh, before turning back around in my seat. I can practically feel the daggers he’s glaring into the back of my head, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around again. 

I’ve shared at least one class with Baz Pitch every term at Watford, unfortunately for the both of us. I don’t know what I ever did to make him hate me, but it got so bad last term that just before Christmas we ended up in a full blown brawl on the football pitch. The lads had to dive in and break it up, but I’m pretty sure I broke his nose, and it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. Funny enough, I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, but I do know that everytime he opens his mouth I want to knock his teeth out. He’s such a pompous twat, walking around campus with his perfect hair and his well tailored trousers and his richly colored jumpers. Must be nice to come from family money. Must be nice to not have a single care in the world, skating through life like you own it. Like every person owes you something just for existing. Well I don’t owe Baz Pitch fucking anything, and I’ll make sure he knows it. 

Our professor releases us about ten minutes later, and as usual I’m practically out the door before he’s even finished talking. This class ends at three, and I have to be in town by three-thirty to meet Penny at the bookstore we’re both employed at. It’s a cozy place, with not a ton of traffic, but it’s home and it has been for the last three years. Ebb hired us our first year at Watford, and it’s basically the perfect student job. She lets us study while we work as long as everything gets done before we leave, and sometimes she’ll even let Penny throw open mic nights where other students can gather to share the stuff they’ve been working on. It’s really great. 

My shoes are wet with rain by the time I reach the shop, and Penny’s already inside when I come sweeping through the door. 

“Oi, don’t get water on the books, Simon,” Ebb scolds. “Where’s your umbrella?” 

“Didn’t have it with me,” I reply sheepishly. Ebb and Penny are always getting on me about not wearing a rain jacket or carrying an umbrella, and they’re both shocked that I’ve managed to survive in London for this long without either one. Ebb frowns at me and complains when I hang my wet coat on the rack by the door, but I just shrug my shoulders and walk further into the comfortable heat of the store. 

“Here, I brought you coffee,” Penny says, handing me a cup. 

“Thanks,” I smile at her as I accept it. She just nods, directing her attention back to Ebb. 

“Simon, I was just telling Penny that a new shipment of YA books just arrived, so if you two could have those sorted before you close up, that would be wonderful,” she smiles. 

“Of course, no problem,” I nod, and her smile grows. 

“Okay, I’ll be off then,” she says and turns to leave. “See you tomorrow!” she calls, and shuts the door softly behind her. Penny and I sit quietly for a few minutes in companionable silence before she breaks into a grin. It’s devious. 

“What?” I frown at her. 

“I brought you coffee which means you have to deal with the books,” 

“That’s not fair! I didn’t know we were going to have a shipment, otherwise I would have skipped class early to buy_ you _coffee!” 

“We both know you wouldn’t have risked running into Baz or Agatha,” Penny smirks. “She was on register.” I try to suppress a groan but it finds its way up my throat anyway, and Penny shouts a laugh. “I knew it!” 

“That shop is literally my worst fucking nightmare,” I sigh. “My ex-girlfriend and my worst enemy working in a place that not only has great coffee, but also the best cherry scones on this side of London. It’s torture, Pen.” 

“I know Simon, you tell me everytime I bring it up,” she laughs. “Baz wasn’t there today, though!” 

“I know, he was in my Am Lit class being a fucking twat,” I groan and slump back against the dark wooden desk that houses the register. “Why can’t I ever seem to get away from him?” 

“You have another class with him? Christ Simon, it’s like you’re cursed.” Penny asks. 

“You’re telling me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s following me.” 

“Did his nose look okay?” She grimaces. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. 

“His nose looked fucking perfect, of course. He’s probably got world-class plastic surgeons at the ready for when he inevitably gets punched in the face for being a dick.” I say, and Penny bursts into laughter. I shortly follow suit, because her laugh is entirely contagious, until we’re both crying and trying to use the desk to keep ourselves from falling over. 

“I still cannot believe you two came to blows last term,” she says between giggles. “I always knew it would happen, but it was shocking nonetheless.” 

“He deserved it,” I reply. “He needed to be brought down a peg.” 

“I just don’t understand why he’s so awful towards you, Si. He’s never anything but polite, if not actually nice to me. And seeing him interact with Agatha is like watching daytime tv drama. You must have really done a number,” Penny says, shrugging and pulling another sip of her coffee. 

“I never did anything,” I shrug. “But the feeling is mutual, I guess.” 

“Do you think you guys could ever work it out? You know, be friends? It’d be nice to hang out with Agatha again.” Penny asks.

“You know you can hang out with Aggie whenever you want, Penny. Just because she’s my ex doesn’t mean she’s not still your friend.” 

“I know that, Simon, but please consider it?” 

“Why? Trying to have a friendship with him would probably end up in my death.”

“If you say so,” Penny sighs. 

We settle into our regular duties as Penny mans the register and I unpack the shipment. The book Ebb ordered is some cheesy new YA fiction about some half human-half dragon bloke, and it looks entirely too overdone for my taste. But it’ll sell, which in the end is really the goal. Ebb’s bookshop, E & N Petty’s Books and Wares, is old and has been owned by her family for generations. We get a wide range of customers from students to tourists, but also long time locals and friends who know us by name. I love this store, and I love Ebb as if she was my own mother, and in a way, she has kind of become that. She lives in a flat above the shop, and Penny and I each have flats down the street. She’s sweet, and her and her bookstore are some of the best things that have ever happened to me. 

The rain is pouring away outside, and on evenings when the thunder is cracking across the sky, we don’t often see too many customers come through. So when the bell rings above the door, I nearly drop the stack of books I’m bringing up for the display, startled by the sound. I’ve just rounded the corner from the back room, and as I look up I see Penny conversing brightly with a dark haired man, whose face is hidden behind the long strands. After a few more steps, I’ve been noticed, and as Penny turns to look at me, so does the customer. 

It’s Baz fucking Pitch. Again. 

“Hey,” I say, greeting Baz like I would any other chap from school. He looks alarmed, but the expression quickly fades back to it’s normal hardness. 

“Hi,” he says. It’s not sharp, it’s not biting, it’s just normal. It makes me uneasy. 

“What was it that you said you were looking for again?” Penny asks, drawing his attention back to her. “Simon can go look for it.” 

“There’s no need, just point me in the right direction and I’ll browse,” He smiles down at Penny, and I feel myself staring, confused as to why of all places, Baz is in our bookstore, and of all things, he’s being nice.

“Non-fiction is to the left upstairs,” Penny chirps, and he nods his thanks before brushing past me. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see a hint of a smile on his mouth as he passes. I’m stunned silent for a minute, before Penny snaps her fingers in my face. 

“Earth to Simon,” she says with her eyebrow raised. 

“Why is he here?” is all I manage to say back. 

“Because he’s an adult with the ability to comprehend written word?” she shrugs and turns her attention back to her book. “I think he said he needed something for class.” 

“There’s like five other bookstores in London,” I tell her, setting the stack of books down on the counter. “He’s here for a reason.”

“Not everything Baz does is solely to take a hit at you, Simon,” Penny sighs. “He probably didn’t even know we work here.”

“I don’t want him here,” I whisper. 

“Too bad, Simon. It’s a public place, he can do whatever he wants as long as he behaves. And he seemed like he was in a good mood, right? Didn’t say anything mean to you.” 

“I’m sure he wanted to,” I reply. “I’m gonna go talk to him.” 

She responds, but I’m not listening as I climb the spiral stairs to the second floor. Baz is easy to find, crouching behind a shelf three rows in. I lean against the shelf, watching him. He doesn’t answer, instead choosing to continue moving his long, elegant fingers across the titles. In fact, he doesn’t even blink, as if he hadn't noticed me at all. 

“Baz,” I say, and he still doesn’t move. 

“You know, Snow, usually when people enter bookstores, they don’t wish to be berated by the employees,” he answers. 

“I’m not berating you,” I huff. “I’m asking why you’ve come into my shop of all places.” 

“Call it a stroke of bad luck,” he sighs, finally standing and turning towards me. “I didn’t know you worked here. It’s not like you and I often exchange conversation over tea.” 

He’s just standing there, so calm and collected, looking like a fucking work of art in his black trousers and cream sweater, and he’s mocking me. 

“Get out,” I mutter. He arches a single eyebrow, and crosses his arms. 

“Why would I leave? I haven’t done anything,” 

“Get your book and leave, Pitch. This is the one place I can escape you, and now you’ve gone and ruined it. Please do me a favor and find your books elsewhere from now on.” I tell him before dashing back down the stairs and into the office. I hear him say something, but I’m too far out of earshot when I close the door. I can feel the angry redness creep up my face. 

I wish Baz Pitch would get out of my life. 

  
  



	2. About Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love I've already received on this fic! I've gotten up through chapter 3 written already so the first few updates will probably be pretty quick, although I'm considering altering ch 3 significantly. We'll see! 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!
> 
> **I had to make an edit because I recalled that Mordelia is not in fact Natasha's child, so there's a sentence or two in the middle that have been altered.**

**Baz**

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the warmest person. I don’t keep a close group of friends, and those I do have, know that I’m not affectionate, gentle, or kind. The simple fact is that I’m too busy with school, and with building a strong future for myself outside of the expectations my father has for me. I don’t have the time to maintain intensely personal relationships. With that being said, it was never my intention to make enemies. Especially not with Simon Snow. 

Why would anyone in their right mind want that? He’s quite literally the embodiment of sunshine. A golden, cinnamon speckled, messy, and semi-illiterate beacon of joy. It’s infuriating. Everything Simon Snow does is purely out of the kindness of his heart, and his acts of kindness are done without a second thought or single hesitation. He’s just a good person, and his light and laughter is sickeningly contagious. It hurts to be around him almost all of the time — which is exactly why I push him away. 

Unfortunately, and by no fault of my own, I’ve shared a class with him every term since first year, and sometimes even that’s too much exposure. He’s entirely too distracting — the way he pulls on his bronze curls or the way he absently chews on his pencils. I can’t focus on my work or get anything done because I’m too busy watching Snow behave like a fucking basket case. I asked my advisor to keep me out of classes with him under the guise of pure disgust, but she said that’s nearly impossible because we’re pursuing the same degree. So I grin and I bear it. 

With my lack of friendships, I tend to spend a lot of time in bookstores. But the one by Fiona’s flat is closed for renovations, and the one by mine is closed on Tuesdays. So, I’m left with my third choice, one I’ve only been to once, E & N Petty’s Books and Wares. It’s cute, charming in its history, and is nestled inconspicuously onto a quiet street corner across town. It’s pouring rain, so I grab my umbrella before I head out into the storm. The bookshop isn’t too far from my place, so I arrive fairly quickly despite the storm. The light from inside glistens softly against the wet pavement, and when I open the door, the whimsical sound of a bell rings out above me. 

At the desk, stands the familiar face of none other than Penelope Bunce, coffee shop regular and Simon Snow expert. She looks up, and visibly winces when she sees me. 

“Baz, hi. Welcome in,” she greets, her smile not nearly reaching her eyes. 

“Bunce,” I nod. 

“Anything I can help you find?” She asks kindly, her voice even, but she seems distracted by something happening in the back room. 

“Actually, yes, I need a book for class. It’s non-fiction—“ I start, but I’m interrupted by the sudden, alarming appearance of Simon Snow. Fuck. 

“Hey,” he says, nearly losing his grip on a stack of books he’s holding. My heart is pounding so loudly in my head I forget to school my expression into something tame, and I pray he doesn’t notice the visible heat on my cheeks. 

“Hi,” I respond. It’s too soft. The softest I’ve ever been towards him. Surely he’ll notice. 

“What was it that you said you were looking for again?” Penny asks me, drawing my attention away from Snow. “Simon can go look for it.” 

“There’s no need, just point me in the right direction and I’ll browse,” I smile, forcing myself not to imagine what it would be like to follow Snow upstairs and press him against a stack of books and kiss him senseless. To hear his voice echoed off the dark wood—

“Non-fiction is to the left upstairs,” Penny informs me, pulling me out of my revere. I nod my thanks, indeed very thankful for the excuse to remove myself from the situation, and try to hide my guilty, self indulgent smile as I brush past Snow on my way towards the stairs. I practically sprint up them, and attempt to hide myself away amongst the tall shelves. I didn’t know Snow had a job, let alone job in a bookstore. This is both a blessing and a curse, and much to my surprise. Maybe he’s not all that illiterate after all. 

I can hear him muttering to Bunce down below, but I try to focus my attention on finding something to read. I’m not actually looking for anything in particular, but I do enjoy a good conversation with Bunce every once in awhile. Had Snow not so rudely interrupted, I might have instigated a chat. 

Suddenly, the muttering stops, and before I can even blink, I can hear Snow’s heavy footsteps on the staircase. He appears next to me in a matter of seconds, leaning all too casually against the bookcase. The images I’d created only moments earlier come flooding back into my mind, and I force myself to keep looking forward.

“Baz,” he says, managing to break through my untimely thoughts. 

“You know, Snow, usually when people enter bookstores, they don’t wish to be berated by the employees,” I reply. 

“I’m not berating you,” he huffs. “I’m asking why you’ve come into my shop of all places.” 

“Call it a stroke of bad luck,” I sigh, before I resign and stand up straight to face him. “I didn’t know you worked here.” I admit. “It’s not like you and I often exchange conversation over tea.” 

He’s still leaning, looking beautiful and furious. I wish things didn’t have to be this way. But I know for certain that Simon Snow could never feel the same things for me that I feel for him. He would never think I look beautiful, or like the embodiment of warm tea and gentle embraces. He thinks I’m cold and cruel, and out to get him. 

“Get out,” he snaps. It catches me by surprise, and I raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Why would I leave? I haven’t done anything,” I ask, feeling myself get defensive. I just want to scream at him. I just want to tell him that I’m sorry, that I shouldn’t have pushed him about his family before Christmas. That I feel like a fucking twat for all the things I’ve done to hurt him. 

“Get your book and leave, Pitch. This is the one place I can escape you, and now you’ve gone and ruined it. Please do me a favor and find your books elsewhere from now on.” he says before pushing away from the shelf and making to leave. 

“Simon, I—“ I start, but he’s already down the stairs when his name leaves my mouth. I feel defeated. I never meant to take it this far. I never intended to have my life revolve around him, despite my best attempts to prevent it. I grab a random book nearest my hand, and make my way back down to Bunce at the register. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s easily angered and you’re a sore spot for him.” 

“I understand,” I answer quietly. “I honestly didn’t know you two worked here, otherwise I wouldn’t have come.” 

“It’s okay, Basil. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. Simons just well petty about personal space,” She shrugs, taking the card from my outstretched hand. “He’ll get over it.” 

She hands my card back to me, and then wraps my book neatly in a paper bag before sliding across the counter towards me. 

“Enjoy your reading,” she says with a bright smile, and it surprisingly manages to slightly heal the deep aching that’s started in my stomach. 

“Thank you, Bunce.” I say, before turning around and exiting the shop. I want to linger, because I know I’ll probably never see it again, but I know it’s better to just go. 

I keep my distance from people because the only people who have ever hurt me are the ones I’ve let get too close. My mother was my best friend. She died in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. I can’t handle that kind of pain again. I’m pretty sure it would kill me if I ever had to experience something like that for a second time. But when Simon Snow came bursting into my life, a flurry of bronze and blue, I knew my chances of surviving were thin. 

It’s not like I had planned on falling for him. I hadn’t anticipated his goofy smile, the way it crinkles the corners of his eyes. I hadn’t expected his laugh, a sound washing over me like warm butter on a summer day. And I certainly hadn’t prepared for the piecing blue of his ocean eyes, and how they sparkle like the night sky. I don’t get the treat of looking at Simon too often, but when I do I find it increasingly harder to look away. I’m completely mesmerized by him. And also completely, and thoroughly fucked. 

My aunt Fiona is sitting on the floor beside my door when I arrive back at my flat, and she’s smoking a cigarette. 

“You can’t smoke those inside, Fi. How many times do I have to tell you?” I ask, exasperated. 

“Oi, I’ll do whatever I want. I’m an adult.” She barks. 

“Could have fooled me,” I answer, unlocking the door and swinging it open. I place my new book gently on the table, and let out a deep sigh. 

“What’s got you all tied up, eh?” Fi asks, flopping down onto the couch. 

“Nothing,” I tell her. “Want tea?” 

“Do you have beer?” 

“No, only red wine.” 

“Tea’s fine then.” 

I busy myself with the cups and the kettle, and I can feel my aunt watching me from the living room. The woman can read me like a book, it’s intensely frustrating. She’s the closest family member I have besides my younger sister Mordelia. They annoy me endlessly, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love them fiercely, though I would never admit to it. 

“Please stop staring at me,” I say to her.

“Tell me what’s got you bothered, then,” she replies. I groan, but bring the tray of tea over to her anyway. I sit beside her on the couch and she throws her feet into my lap before I even have a chance to settle in. 

“Tell me your sorrows, nephew,” She says, pretending to sound old and wise. “I will give you guidance.” 

“You’d guide me off a cliff if I listened to you,” I say, and she sighs before rolling her eyes. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong, Baz. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“Simon Snow.” I huff after a minute. She knows. She’s always known. I don’t even have to explain. 

“Ah,” she nods sagely, taking a sip of her tea. “Simon Snow.” 

“He works at that old bookstore across town.” 

“Ebbs?” Fiona perks up. “I love that place.” 

“Yeah,” I sigh. 

“You could just be, you know, nice to him.” She shrugs. “Would save you a lot of trouble.”

“And risk letting him get close to me? Yeah right.” 

“Basil,” she sighs and rests a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s okay to let people in.” 

“I can’t let him in, Fi. He would tear me apart. He hates my guts and I don’t need to hear him say that to know it’s the truth. I’m perfectly fine suffering in silence.” 

“You want to suffer for the rest of your life?” 

“It’s not the rest of my life, it’s just until summer, and then after that I never have to see him again.” 

“Basil…” she sighs. “You can’t just bury the feelings you have for him. They’ll find their way out whether you like it or not, and if they have to force themselves out of you, you’re not going to like it.” 

“Fiona,” I groan. “You underestimate my ability to bottle my emotions.” 

“Do I?”

“I’ve been keeping them in for three years, have I not?” 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen if he knew?” she asks. 

“Kill me and spit on my freshly dug grave?” I shrug. 

“Baz,” she snaps. 

“No, Fiona. I’m never going to tell him. It’s not worth the emotional turmoil.” 

“What if he likes you back?” 

“He punched me in the face before Christmas.” 

“Well you started that,” she shrugs. “I’m surprised it took so long.”

“And it’s not even possible! He’s straight.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“Yes? He dated Wellbelove for almost 2 years.” 

“That doesn’t mean he’s straight, Baz.” 

“It doesn’t matter, Fiona.” 

“Yes it does! Don’t let him be the one that gets away.” 

“Stop. It’s not happening. I’m done talking about this.” 

“Fine, whatever say, boyo. But heed my advice,” she says. “And turn on the game, yeah?” 

I don’t have class the next morning. On Wednesday, I’m usually working at the coffee shop across the street from my flat. The one Penelope Bunce frequents. The one Simon Snow avoids like the plague. 

It takes a lot of sheer force of will to pull myself from my bed, and I get ready for my day as usual. I throw my hair into a makeshift bun, pull on my maroon jumper with jeans, and walk across the street through the brisk morning air. 

It’s always beautiful out the morning after a rainstorm. The air is crisp, and I actually feel like I can breathe for once. Agatha is already waiting outside the store when I pull out my keys. 

“Good morning,” she chirps. 

“Morning,” I reply. 

“Alright?” She asks, frowning at me. She’s too pretty to frown, so I just nod my hair and push the door open. The stale nighttime air hits us, and Agatha bee-lines for the unit. 

“It’s so stuffy, I’ll open the windows.” She says. 

I let her flutter around the room while I start up the machines and put away dry mugs and carafes. It’s nice to work with Agatha. She’s patient, doesn’t talk much, and even when she does she can hold a conversation by herself. It takes the pressure off me to actually have to function before 6 am. So I put myself on autopilot, and get to work. 

Around 11 we quiet down, and Agatha comes to lean against the counter next to me. 

“So what’s up? You’ve been frowning.” She asks. 

“I’d rather not get into it.” I tell her, absently wiping the countertop with a rag. 

“Come on, Baz! You know I love to live vicariously through the drama in your life.” 

“I don’t have drama, Aggie.” 

“Yes you do. I know beneath that dark and brooding exterior there’s a big ol teddy bear filled to the brim with emotions.” 

“Couldn’t be further from the truth.” 

“Can I guess?” 

“Knock yourself out.” I roll my eyes and sigh. 

“It’s…” she pauses, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “About a boy.” 

I still. She’s not going to want to get to the bottom of this. Agatha Wellbelove is not going to want to know I’ve been pining after her ex-boyfriend since long before she even dated him. We don’t talk about Simon in reference to me. We talk about how he was a bad boyfriend to her. Inattentive, distracted, easily angered. He wasn’t affectionate, cared more about football, and they never had sex once in the year and a half they were together. He was boring, he was plain, and she felt like they were overcomplicated friends at the most. 

So we don’t talk about Simon. 

“Baz! Tell me!” She shouts, grabbing at my arm. “Please please please,” 

“Agatha—“ 

“C’mon, we never talk about boys! Can’t we just this once?” 

“No, I don’t—“

“Baz,” 

“Agatha please,” I groan, but she just smirks maniacally. 

“Don’t even try to make me guess who it is. We both know I’ll figure it out.” 

“I sincerely don’t think you’ll be pleased if you do.” 

“Why not?” 

“Aggie, really,” 

“Just tell me who you have a crush on!” She shouts as the door dings. We both turn, only to see Simon and Penelope entering the shop. I still again, and she notices, because she still has a firm grip on my sleeve. She looks up at me, and I pray she can’t tell why I’ve done it. But she knows. She has to. Her gaze keeps switching between me and Snow, and realization dawns on her face. 

“Simon?” She asks me, and realization turns into hurt. 

“Hey,” he greets, forcing a small smile as they approach the counter. Agatha lets go of my arm, and backs away from me. 

“What can we get started for you guys?” She asks. Her bubbly mood from earlier is lost, replaced by what I know is calm anger and the inability to yell at me like she must want to. She’ll scold me, I know she will. 

“The usual, please!” Penny answers, smiling brightly at Agatha. She nods, and turns to get started, leaving me to ring them up and make conversation. 

Make conversation with Penelope Bunce and Simon Snow, who’s looking absolutely plush in a green jumper and a big coat. His curls have been haphazardly shoved under a hat, and it’s a travesty to witness. 

“Anything else?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. I at least, will keep my customer service skills above the bar. 

“Four sour cherry scones, please! For Simon,” Bunce adds. Simon blushes and looks away. 

“Alright,” I nod and look down at my screen. “That’ll be £7.85, please.” 

Penny hands me her card, still smiling. I feel like everyone in this room knows something that I don’t, but I push the feeling down and keep my eyes on the screen. 

Thankfully, Agatha then brings their coffee and scones up. I write their names on their cups, and push them across the counter. 

“Thanks, Baz! You guys have a good day!” Penny says cheerfully, before turning to leave the store. Snow takes his cup, frowns, looks at me quizzically, then follows Penny to the door. 

We stay quiet for a few moments after they leave and I know Agatha is seething. 

“You wrote ‘Simon’ on his cup.” She says quietly. 

“What?” I turn towards her, confused. 

“You wrote his name. You usually write ‘Snow’, you dimwit.” She says, gently punching me in the arm. “That’s why he looked at you that way.” 

“Oh,” _ Shit _. 

“How long?” she asks. 

“Hmm?” 

“How long have you liked Simon?” 

“Agatha, we don’t have to talk about it—“ 

“Oh, hush, Basilton. He’s not my boyfriend anymore, but even though things are awkward between us, he’s still my friend and I still want him to be happy. So tell me how long you’ve had a crush on our little golden boy, hmm?” She chirps. Her mood has lifted, and I’m confused. Why isn’t she angry? She should be angry. 

“You’re—what? How’re you okay with this?” 

“Because you’re my friend too. Don’t get me wrong, it’s weird. But I’m not going to tell you that you can’t like him just because he’s my ex. Just because things didn’t work out between him and I, doesn’t mean something couldn’t work between you two. He has always been obsessed with you.” 

“You said he was boring and inattentive.” 

“Yeah, to me,” she shrugs. 

“What are you implying, Aggie?” 

“You should ask him out,” 

“No. No way. He hates me,” 

“No he doesn’t?”

“He kicked me out of the bookstore!” I shout, feeling frustrated. “He doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.” 

“Simon acts like he hates you because you’re mean to him, Baz! You’ve seen the way his expression changes when you’re nice. Would it hurt to try?” 

“Yes, it would. It would be pure agony.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” She rolls her eyes. “I can talk to him if you want,” 

“Agatha NO.” 

“Fine fine,” she waves me off. “You do you.” 

“I will, thank you.” I say, turning back to the counter. She just laughs and walks away, patting me gently on the shoulder. 

Simon Snow hates me. I hate Simon Snow for the way we makes me feel. I can’t get my hopes up about this. That’s how hearts get broken. Again. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Remember, I love comments, they make my day, so let me know what you're thinking/feeling this far.  
What do you wish would happen between these boys? What's something you wish Baz had the guts to tell Simon? Let me know! 
> 
> See you next time!


	3. About Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii! Welcome back. 
> 
> As you may have noticed...there's a bit of overlapping between chapters. This is going to continue probably until around chapter 5. I'd switch the POV to include both, but the chapters would be really long and I also kind of like the idea of switching off between chapters for Simon and Baz for now. Also, I like the suspense.   
With that being said: the later chapters will have some POV switching, as Baz and Simon start to spend more time together, but in the meantime they'll have their own chapters. I'll let you know ahead of time if anything changes. Cool!  
With THAT being said: This chapter backtracks to the previous night in the bookstore, and then overlaps during the coffee visit. I know some of you were excited to see Simon's reaction to the cup ;)
> 
> Okay, okay, enough housekeeping. OH WAIT ONE MORE THING-   
I'm on a Wednesday/Saturday update schedule as of right now. It should stay this way, but again, I'll let you know if anything changes. 
> 
> OKAY I'M DONE, ENJOY.

**Simon (Previous night)**

“Simon,” Penny says from the doorway. I’m angrily stacking books into makeshift piles, avoiding her gaze. “We need to talk about what just happened.” 

“No we don’t, Pen.” I sigh. 

“You can’t kick him out of the shop, Si. He didn’t do anything. He was just looking for a book, where’s the harm in that?”

“The harm?” I shout, slamming a book down. “This is _my_ safe place, Penny. To get away from him. He somehow manages to be everywhere else in my life, so the only time I can escape him is at work. I know he has other shops closer to his flat. There’s no reason for him to come here other than to torture me.” 

“Simon,” Penny whispers. “He didn’t come here to torture you. He seemed really upset when he was leaving.”

“I—” I stammer. “He’s so—” 

“Did he do something so horrible that you can’t even fathom the possibility of being his friend? It would save you so much pain and energy if you weren’t at each other's necks all the time.” she tells me. I stop, slumping against a shelf. 

“He never did anything specifically…” I shrug.

“Wait, what?” Penny’s jaw drops. “So what made you hate him, then?” 

“It’s just how he acts. He’s so arrogant and mean, and everything he says to me is a snarky comment or a jab at me. He’s never once been nice and I don’t know what I did to make him hate me, but it’s always been that way. I don’t understand why he’s so nice to you and Agatha but horrible towards me.” 

“I’m so confused…” she frowns, and begins pacing around the room. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. “So there’s not any specific event prior to the Christmas fist fight that triggered the war between you two?” 

“Not that I can think of, no,” I shrug. “He’s hated me since day one.” 

“Simon, tell me something.” she pauses, and smirks. “Do you think Baz is fit?” 

“What? Why would you ask me that?” I start. 

“Well, it’s just that—”

“Penny, he’s my worst enemy,” I press. 

“Si, listen,” she sighs and rolls her eyes at me. “You’re hot-headed, we know that.”

“Your point is?” 

“My point _is_, that when you don’t understand things, you get angry. And nothing makes you angrier than Baz Pitch.” 

“Damn right, I don’t understand Baz in the slightest.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” she laughs. “You’re coming with me to get coffee tomorrow morning.” she says, stopping. 

“What?” I straighten. “Why?” 

“Because I need to assess the situation.” 

“What situation?” 

“We’re going to pull on Baz, what he pulled on you today,” she says. “Although, I do think he did it accidentally.” 

“Penny, explain,” I sigh, getting annoyed. 

“We’re going to catch him in his natural environment. Catch him off guard and see how he acts.” 

“Why?” 

“Because we can, Simon! Because it’s fun!” 

“Penny, that doesn’t make sense.” I groan. 

“It will, I promise!” she says, bouncing on her toes back towards the door. “There’s just something I need to see.”

“Wait, Penny!” I call after her. “Why did you ask if I think Baz is fit?!” 

  
  


**Wednesday **

Penny and I head out to get coffee around 11, and the air is still chilled from the rain the night before. It feels good on my perpetually hot face as we walk through town toward the coffee shop. When we enter, Baz looks relaxed and soft. Softer than I’ve ever seen him. His hair is tied back and he’s wearing glasses. I’ve never seen Baz wear glasses. I had just assumed his vision was perfect, just like the rest of him. He’s glaring at me as Penny and I walk toward the counter, but his expression isn’t one I recognize. He looks...flustered? Agatha greets us awkwardly, looking between Baz and I and clutching viciously onto his arm. She let’s go as Penny tells her our order, shoving Baz away like she’s upset. Actually, she does look upset. I watch her absently as she makes our drinks, observing how her delicate hands dance across the confusing machinery, but she doesn't say anything to me.Then, I hear Baz ask if we need anything else, and I hear Penny mention the scones. 

“For Simon,” she giggles.  _ Fuck _ , now Baz is going to know I have a weakness for those scones, and he’ll probably stop making them just to spite me. I shift my gaze back to Baz, and watch as he rings us up like it’s the most important thing he’s done all morning, his eyes not leaving the tablet in front of him. Penny hands over her card and when our order is ready, Baz writes our names on our cups and slides the coffee and scones across the counter toward us. The exchange feels forced and awkward, and Penny is being so sickeningly pleasant it makes me want to pull my hair out. I take one of the cups from the counter and check that it’s mine. 

_ Wait.  _ I feel myself frown as I lift my gaze up to Baz, who’s still staring at me. Maybe we did catch him off guard. Penny nudges me in the shoulder as she passes and I follow her back out onto the street.

“Alright?” She asks, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“It says my name, Pen.” I tell her, 

“Hmm?” 

“The cup, it says Simon.” 

“What?” she stops, taking my cup and turning it in her hands. Her face then lights up excitedly. “Oh, my god.” 

“I know,” I reply. 

“Oh, my god. Simon!” she shouts, as she jumps up and down in her spot. 

“What?” I ask, confused by her outburst. 

“He _ likes _ you!” she says, a wide grin splitting across her face. 

“What?!” I say again. She shoves the cup, name-first back into my hand, and points at it. 

“He wrote your first name, Simon! We caught him off guard, so he didn’t have an opportunity to put his walls up!" She shouts gleefully. "Honestly, I’ve suspected it for awhile, but this has definitely confirmed my suspicions.”

“Penny, no way, that’s not—” 

“And you like him too, you bloody fucking prat! I saw the way you looked at him when we walked in!” 

“Penny, please slow down! This doesn’t make any sense,” I try to stop her, bringing my hands up to her shoulders. 

“It makes so much sense, Simon, you just needed someone to point it out to you.” She grabs my wrists and shakes me. 

“Explain it to me, then? Because I’m confused and I think you’ve gone mad.” 

“All those times when you complained about him, ‘Baz’s cologne smells like cedar, it’s so overwhelming, Penny,’ or ‘Baz had his hair slicked back today, he’s so pretentious’, were actually, ‘Wow, Baz smells really good, Penny,’ and ‘Baz looked really fit today, but I don’t know how to combat my preconceived heterosexuality,’ It’s been right there, under our noses, the whole time! You’ve got a crush on Baz Pitch, and it makes you angry because you don’t know how to deal with it!” 

Holy shit. _ Holy shit _ . Is she right? 

“Penny,” I warn, holding my free hand up. “I don’t think—” 

“Simon Snow you bloody mess, you,” she says. She wraps an arm around me, and starts pulling me toward the bookshop. “We’re going to figure you out together.” 

  
  


**Thursday, the following week: **

Penny’s been pestering me with questions and comments about Baz constantly since last Wednesday. From ‘what is your favorite color that he wears?’ to ‘I think you’d made a really good fit, don’t you think?’ and I’ve about had it. It’s bad enough that she had to be the one to point it out to me, as it should have been something that was obvious. Of course it makes sense that I have a whopping crush on Baz Pitch, I’ve been obsessed with him since the middle of our first year at Uni. But now, I have a crush on my worst enemy, and I have no idea what to do with that information. I’ve been avoiding him now more than ever, and I think he’s beginning to catch on. He watches me warily when I enter and leave class, but he doesn’t make any attempts to talk to me or make any snide remarks. If anything it should be peaceful, but instead, I’m having an internal battle about how to tell Basilton Grimm-Pitch that I have a huge gay crush on him and pray to God that the feelings are mutual. Penny seems to think they are, but I’ve never known Baz to be one for emotions. He’s all prickly comments and tough exterior. Never really been much of a conversationalist, and prior to last Wednesday, I’d never even seen him make physical contact with another human being. 

My solution? I’m never going to tell him. Nope. Never. 

“Simon!” someone calls as I leave class. I whirl around to see Agatha bounding towards me. 

“Hey, Aggie, what’s up?” I say as casually as possible as she reaches me. 

“I’m throwing a party in my flat tomorrow, would you and Penny want to come?”

“Really?" I gape. "You’d want me there?” 

“Of course, silly. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Um, I don't know. Sure, okay.” I shrug, confused. “What time?”

“Nine!” she tells me, her smile becoming overwhelming. 

“Okay, sure. I’ll let Penny know. We’ll see you there.” 

“Great! It should be lots of fun!” she says and bounces away. I watch, confused, as she meets up with Baz, and before I turn I see him run a hand across his face. Great, she must have told him. Can’t wait to deal with that. 

**Friday**

“I don’t want to go to this party, Pen.” I whine from where I'm laying on Penny's bed as she finishes getting ready.

“Too bad. You’re the one that opened your mouth and told Agatha that we’d be there, so now we have to go. Think of this as a good opportunity to put feelers out,” Penny says as she pins back her hair. 

“Feelers out?” 

“With Baz,” 

“With Baz?!” I sit up abruptly. 

“Simon, seriously, I can’t hold your hand through this entire process. You’re going to have to face him eventually.” 

“But at a party, with alcohol, seem like the worst place to make that second first impression,” I whine, throwing myself back down.

“What do you mean? It’s the perfect environment. You’ll have a couple drinks, loosen up a little, and then hit on him profusely until he admits his undying love for you. I don’t see where you’re confused?” she turns, an eyebrow raised at me. “We have to get you out there somehow.” 

“Penny, what if Baz isn’t even gay?” 

“Baz is 100% gay, Simon,” she deadpans. “Don’t be daft.” 

“Alright, so what if I do flirt with him, and he isn’t into me?” 

“Simon, he is into you, of that I’m absolutely positive.” 

“Penny, nooooooo,” I groan again. “I don’t want to. Don’t you think he would have hit on me already if he wanted to?” 

“As far as he knows, you’re straight.” 

“Don’t you think it’ll seem a little weird to him if I just start flirting with him out of the blue?” 

“Only one way to find out.” she shrugs, before standing up and reaching behind me for her bag. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

  
  


When we get to Agatha’s, the party is already in full swing. We’ve arrived at her flat at almost 10, and I can already smell alcohol on people’s breath as we pass by. 

“We should find Aggie!” I shout to Penny over the blaring music. 

“Good idea, but we should also get drinks!” she replies, wiggling her brows at me. She pulls me toward the kitchen, which has been turned into a makeshift bar, and begins pouring mysterious liquids into plastic cups. She hands one to me, and it smells vile. 

“Drink it, maybe you’ll grow a pair!” she barks, laughing. 

“Hey!” I reply, then spot a dark haired figure moving through the room. “Look,” I nudge Penny. 

“You should go talk to him,” she tells me, pushing me gently on the back. 

“No, I think I need to be drunk first,” I answer, before downing the horrible concoction in my hand. Penny raises an eyebrow at me, then grins wickedly, refilling my cup. I down it again. 

“You’ll be there in no time.” she laughs, then pushes me further into the party. There seems to be people on every surface, from couch to counter-top, chatting, making out, or playing drinking games. I didn’t know Agatha could throw a party like this. I didn’t know she knew so many people. Maybe if I had actually been present during our relationship, I would have noticed.

Before long, Penny is pulling me onto the balcony where Agatha is standing, chatting animatedly with a short, dark haired guy who’s smoking a cigarette. She quickly spots us, and waves us over. 

“Hi, guys! I’m so glad you could make it,” she says, pulling Penny into a hug, and smiling up at me. “What do you think?” 

“It’s really awesome Agatha, it’s a total blowout.” Penny replies. I nod in agreement and let them chat as I take a look around. Agatha’s flat is massive, and the balcony itself is bigger than my flat entirely. There’s blokes all around us smoking, and a few people gossiping here and there. It’s certainly a party, I’ll give her that, but in all honesty I feel a bit out of place. Agatha comes from family money, like Baz, and you can always kind of tell that they people they surround themselves with do as well. Everyone around us is wearing nice trousers and well-tailored dresses, while I’m in jeans and a jumper Penny picked out for me. This party feels like something exclusive that I’m severely not apart of. 

“Simon,” I hear my name and turn, to see Agatha staring up at me. “Can I talk to you?” 

“Um, sure?” I shrug, my nerves crawling up my spine. Penny isn’t standing with us anymore. When did she leave? Is Agatha going to yell at me? 

“It’s just that…” she pauses, and an expression of softness alters her features. “I want you to be happy. And I want you to know that I don’t harness any resentment towards you, I never have. I just want us to be friends. I miss hanging out with you and Penny.” 

“Agatha,” I sigh, relief washing over me. “I miss hanging out with you too. Being friends would be awesome,” 

“Good! That’s good. Okay,” she laughs. “I was kind of worried that you hated me.” 

“I could never hate you, Aggie.” I smile, and she laughs again before pulling me into a hug. 

“You’re a really great guy, Simon. Sometimes I wish we had worked out, but I think it’s better that we didn’t,” she says, still smiling. 

“Why do you say that?” I ask her. Her smile widens. 

“I just think there’s something better out there for you.” She says vaguely, before her gaze shifts to something behind me. I don’t have to look, I already know who it is. 

“Basil!” Agatha shouts, and waves her hand wildly at him. I cringe, knowing I’m not nearly pissed enough, and brace myself for his inevitable snark. 

“Wellbelove, Snow,” he regards us, and I briefly catch his eyes looking me up and down. 

“Baz,” I reply, avoiding eye contact. He’s staring at me, and I can feel my face heat under the attention. “Enjoying the party?” 

He raises an eyebrow at me, and takes a sip from his cup. I do the same, and notice that I’ve already almost reached the bottom again. I look over at Baz, who’s looking fucking exquisite of course, though more so than usual. His black trousers are flattering on his long legs, and his floral shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. It’s just a few buttons. It’s just a neck. Why is it so sexy? 

“I am, actually. Wellbelove knows her liquor.” he replies. 

“That I do!” She chimes, and I start, having almost completely forgotten that she was there. “I’m gonna go find Penny, you two have fun!” she chirps, pats me gently on the arm, and then dashes away before I can even begin to stop her. She knows what she just did. She let me alone, half tipsy, with Baz Pitch, who’s looking like a five star, four course meal.  _ Bloody hell. _ I must look like a fucking plastic bag standing next to him. How could Penny imagine us as a couple, even for a second? The whole concept seems like a load of bollocks to me.

“Drunk already, Snow?” he asks. 

“What?” I start, looking back at him. He looks bored, his expression blank. 

“You’ve been here what, twenty minutes? Pissed already?” 

“Hardly,” I snort. “You?” 

“I don’t get drunk, thank you. It’s rather unbecoming.” 

“Then why are you here?” I ask, and it comes out sharper than I’d intended. He frowns. 

“Because she asked me to come,” he answers, gesturing vaguely toward where Agatha ran off to. “I don’t know how she managed to convince me, but here I am.” 

“Yeah, Aggie has that effect on people.” I laugh. I think this is the most words Baz and I have ever exchanged that weren’t laced with hatred. 

“Though I will say, I am surprised to see you. You don’t normally show up to these kinds of things. Have you and Wellbelove gotten back together?” he sneers, and it makes my stomach drop. 

“No, what? Baz, no we--” 

“Use your words, Snow,” he snaps, and I feel the rage begin to boil in my veins. Why did I think for a second that we could be nice to each other? 

“Oi, fuck off,” I say, before turning around and leaving the balcony. I almost run into Agatha and Penny, who are standing right by the window. 

“Simon?” Penny asks, her hands coming up to my shoulders. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m leaving,” I tell her. “Baz is being a fucking ass, obviously. I’m ready to go.” 

“You haven’t even been here that long,” Agatha pleads. “Stay a little while longer, there’s so many people here you should have no problem avoiding him.”

“Fine, but I need a shot.” I grumble, and Agatha grins. 

“Easy enough.” 

Around 1:30, Penny and I go stumbling back to my flat across town. Well actually, I’m stumbling, and Penny is attempting to hold me upright. I got way more drunk than I’d intended to, but I’m not the one to blame for that. This is Baz’s fault. 

“Fuck him, Penny,” I mumble into her shoulder as we walk. 

“Who?” 

“Baz,” I sigh. “He’s such an arse.”

“Well, that’s true.” 

“He looked so good tonight, I hate him,” 

“No you don’t, Simon,” 

“Yes, I do. I hate him for the way he makes me feel,” I tell her. “Like I want to scream and laugh at the same time.”

“That’s odd,” she frowns. 

“I wish we could get along,” I sigh. 

“Me too, Simon, me too.” 

“Do you really think he likes me?” 

“I think he could,” she sighs, before leaning me up against the wall outside my flat. She digs around in my pockets for my keys, and unlocks the door. “Just give it some time.” 

“I should text him,” I mumble, and she just laughs. 

“You should absolutely not, by any means, text Basil right now.” 

“But I want him to know,” I whine as she pulls me inside. 

“Know what, Simon? That you’re extremely skilled at making a fool of yourself?” 

“He already knows that,” I laugh, slumping into my couch. “I want to tell him I think he’s pretty.” 

“He’s very pretty. In the morning if you’re still feeling that way, you can text him and tell him that.” 

“No, right now,” 

“No, Simon,” Penny laughs and I can hear her turning on my kettle. I pull my phone from my pocket and search through my contacts for Baz’s number. I know I have it saved because we were forced to exchange numbers during our English class in first year. 

One text won’t hurt, right? 

_ SS (1:45 am): Hey.  _

Penny comes back over with two cups of tea, and her eyes go wide when she sees my phone in my hand. 

“Simon, did you just text him?” 

“...No.” I lie. She rolls her eyes, and hands me one of the mugs. I set my phone down to take it. 

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” she laughs. “But I guess drunk Simon is doing sober Simon some favors right now.” 

“I’m tired of waiting,”

“Waiting for what?” 

“To be happy,” I sigh. Penny’s expression falls, and she reaches a hand out to grip my knee. 

“Oh, Simon. You’ll be happy, I promise. But drunk texting Basil in the middle of the night may not be the best course of action for that.” 

“He probably won’t even reply,” I shrug. As if on cue, my phone buzzes on the couch beside me. Penny and I stare at it, long enough for it to go off again with a reminder that I have any notifications at all. 

“Are you going to check it?” she asks quietly. 

“I’m scared,” 

“What’s the worst thing he could say?” 

“He could tell me to go die,” I offer. 

“Well yes, I imagine that is a possibility,” she laughs. I set my mug down on the table and reach for my phone. I open the text. 

_ BP (1:51 am): You should be asleep. _

“Oh,” Penny gasps. “That’s...good?” 

I type out a reply. 

_ SS (1:55 am): So should you.  _

After I few beats, I set my phone down beside me. 

"He's not replying," I whine. 

"He's probably asleep," Penny whispers.

"Already?" 

"I don't know! Maybe he's on the phone, or texting a friend, or maybe he's been captured by goblins and thrown in a coffin under a bridge." 

"Not funny, Penny." 

"I'm sorry," she giggles. "Come on, let's get you to bed." 

I let Penny lead me into my bedroom and I slump down into my bed as she slides off my shoes. My phone buzzes again in my hand. 

_ BP (2:05 am): I’m helping Agatha clean up.  _

I reply. 

_ SS (2:06 am): That’s nice of you. You looked really good tonight. _

“ _ Simon _ ,” Penny sigh, reading my text from behind. “Too forward.” 

“I’m drunk, Pen. Shut up,” I brush her off. 

“You’re going to scare him off,” she tells me and I yawn, shrugging. I close my eyes and roll over, sinking down into the pillows. 

“Doesn’t strike me as the type to be easily scared,” I tell her. My phone buzzes again. 

_ BP (2:11 am): Go to sleep, Simon. _

So I do _ .  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts in the comments. I loved all the feedback on the last chapter! 
> 
> See you on Saturday!


	4. About Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a weeeee bit late. I had, surprisingly, quite a few things to do today, even though I wanted to spend the morning editing this and getting it out for you. I'm about to head to a concert so I need to post it now, lest I forget completely! 
> 
> This is kind of where the overlapping we talked about last time comes to a close. Starting in chapter 5, we'll be switching POV pretty frequently, so be excited for that! I'm also still finding Simon difficult to write? It's strange, and I'm hoping to move past it. I swear I edited and edited and edited this chapter a million times over the course of the week (I've had it written since before I posted on Wednesday) and I'm still not sure I'm completely happy with it, but alas, we must move along. 
> 
> A few notes:  
Did this suddenly turn into a text-fic toward the middle? Yes.  
Do I mind? No  
Do I still hope you love it? Also yes  
Will it go back to normal? Yes 
> 
> Last but not least, thank you all so much for all the love and support on the previous chapters.  
Enjoy!

**Baz (Friday)**

This is bad. This is very, very bad. Simon Snow is at Wellbelove’s party, and he looks good. He looks too good. It’s clear that he didn’t dress himself, which is honestly for the best. If he had, he’d be wearing trackies and a football pullover and he’d look far too comfortable for a party such as this. But he’s wearing jeans. And a jumper. A soft looking jumper in a fabulous off-white color that’s complementary to his copper curls. Clearly something of Bunce’s creation, judging by the fact that he actually looks dressed and not like he just rolled out of bed. 

This is so bad. He hasn’t seen me yet, or he has, and hasn’t made it obvious. Either way, I’m standing like a creep in the corner watching him like he’s prey, and I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty. He’s been avoiding me all week, more so than usual, so I’m taking any opportunity I can get to stare at him indulgently, even while he’s throwing back alcohol like it’s water. 

The cup thing was an accident. They’d caught me off guard and I let my act slip, and now there’s no doubt in my mind that Bunce is onto me. She’s too sharp to not have picked up on the meaning behind his first name. I saw the way he panicked outside, I saw the way she flamboyantly jumped about on the pavement. Agatha thinks they know. I can only assume they know. Which means I’m royally, completely, undoubtedly fucked. And it explains perfectly why he’s been avoiding me for over a week. 

Simon Snow is at this party. I am also at this party. Simon Snow is at this party looking fucking delectable, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So I lurk, and I watch him look anxious and beautiful, and I hate myself for being uncontrollably in love with a straight bloke. 

I spot Dev and Niall across the room, so I push away from the wall and force myself to take my eyes off Snow. He’s going to see me cross the room, so I keep my eyes down and make my way through the crowded room to my friends. 

“Hey,” Niall mumbles into his cup as I approach. “Alright?” 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I snap. 

“Who pissed in your tea, bruv?” Dev asks, nudging me with his elbow. I roll my eyes and take another sip of my water, before glancing back at where Snow was standing in the kitchen with Bunce. They’ve moved, and are walking arm in arm to the balcony door. 

“Oi, you’re watching Snow like a hawk. Think he’ll get pissed and pick a fight?” Niall asks, following my gaze. 

“No, that’s not what I’m concerned about.” I tell him, turning back. 

“Did you two get into it again?” Dev asks. 

“No,” I sneer. “We’re fine.” 

“Christ, loosen up would you, mate?” Niall laughs. “It’s a party.” 

“He’s not thick enough to pick a fight with Baz in a place like this. He’s got his girlfriends to keep him in check.” 

“They’re not his girlfriends.” I huff. 

“Aren’t they?” Dev laughs. “Cling to him like they are. He’s talking to Agatha right now as a matter of fact.” 

I turn, looking back through the glass door, and see Wellbelove and Snow chatting near the railing. Bunce is nowhere to be seen. Wellbelove’s got a bit of an ambivalent look on her face, and she looks like she might cry. 

“Excuse me, I need some air.” I tell Dev and Niall before quietly maneuvering my way onto the balcony. 

Wellbelove sees me right away, over Snow’s shoulder as they exit an embrace, and waves me over. I can do this. It’s just Snow. I’ve kept a wall up around him for almost 3 years. How hard can one more night of close proximity be? 

“Wellbelove, Snow,” I nod at them, and I indulgently check him out. It’s not subtle. 

“Baz,” Snow replies, but he won’t look at me. “Enjoying the party?” He asks. He’s blushing. Fuck. He knows. 

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he glances at me quickly over the rim of his cup. Is he...checking me out? “I am, actually. Wellbelove knows her liquor.” I tell him. 

“That I do!” Wellbelove laughs, and reaches up to pat Snow on the arm. “I’m gonna go find Penny, you two have fun!” She says, before gracefully removing herself from what feels like the most inconvenient situation I’ve ever been in. Snow’s blushing harder now, and he glances frantically after Agatha as she walks away.

“Drunk already, Snow?” I ask, my voice patronizing. 

“What?” He jumps. He looks at me, bewildered. I don’t know why I’m being difficult, why I can’t just open myself up to him. 

“You’ve been here what, twenty minutes? Pissed already?” I say. 

“Hardly,” He snorts. “You?” 

“I don’t get drunk, thank you. It’s rather unbecoming.” I tell him, smirking. His expression hardens. 

“Then why are you here?” He asks, and I frown. This is the rudest he’s ever been. I’m impressed. 

“Because she asked me to come,” I answer, waving noncommittally towards the balcony door. “I don’t know how she managed to convince me, but here I am.” 

“Yeah, Aggie has that effect on people.” He laughs. It’s bright, and the sound of it hits me right in my chest. I want to reach out and brush his curls from his eyes, but we are definitely not there. I’m not sure if we’ll ever be. 

“Though I will say, I am surprised to see you. You don’t normally show up to these kinds of things. Have you and Wellbelove gotten back together?” I’m not sure why I say it. It’s laced with venom. His eyes widen at me, and he shakes his head. 

“No, what? Baz, no we--” 

“Use your words, Snow,” I snap, and I immediately regret it as soon as the words pass my lips. 

“Oi, fuck off,” he sighs, and his expression changes into something akin to pain. He doesn’t look at me he moves away, back toward the door. My heart clenches in my chest as I watch him walk away. Why couldn’t I just be nice? Now would have been the perfect opportunity to flirt, for fucks sake, he already knows I’m into him. He gave me the opportunity, he opened the door, and I slammed it in his face. Tonight could have been so different. I could have been nice, I could have flirted, maybe I could have even lured him in enough to kiss me. He checked me out, I checked him out, there’s something there. But I’m the Pitch Bitch, I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t let some boy with speckled skin and auburn hair break that down and shatter it. 

So I watch him until the door closes, and then I turn, and grip the railing to keep myself from screaming. 

I stay outside for awhile to cool down. I know Simon is inside with Bunce and Wellbelove, and I can’t show my face around them just yet, if at all. 

Dev and Niall find me eventually, and Niall looks at me sadly. I must look utterly crestfallen for my best friend to look at me like that. 

“Mate?” He says, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Might make you feel better,” Dev adds. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?” I almost shout. “Talking about this isn’t going to make me feel better. Nothing except falling off this balcony or getting piss drunk is going to improve my current situation and I don’t have the strong desire to do either of those things.” 

“Is it Snow?” Niall asks gently. He knows. He’s always known. I came out to him our 6th year of high school, and last year when I got too drunk over Christmas break I told him about Snow. He’s been unwaveringly supportive about the whole thing, and though I’ve never said it, I’m extremely grateful to have someone other than my family and now Agatha, apparently, in on my secret. 

“It’s fine,” I wave him off. 

“It’s not fine, Baz.” He says. 

“This is a party, let’s get drunk, lads.” I tell them, before turning, throwing my arms over their shoulders, and letting them lead me back inside. Good men. 

I manage to avoid Snow for the rest of the night, thankfully. I watch him from the corner of my eye the whole time, but I know it’s best not to approach him. I watch as he takes shot after shot, and I know for a fact he’ll probably be out of commission tomorrow. 

I’m drunk. I’m not piss-drunk, but I’m not sober. I’ve been letting Niall refill my vodka soda as he wishes, and I’ve been drinking leisurely as I lazily view the catastrophe that is Simon Snow. He doesn’t notice me watching him, and I don’t know if at this point I’d care if he did. If he wanted to fight me, I’d let him. If he wanted to scream at me until his voice was hoarse, I’d let him do that too. I’ve let him hate me for as long as I can remember, and nothing compares to that, so he could do his worst and it still wouldn’t matter. Nothing could calm the ache in my chest. I know that. 

After the party, I stay behind to help Wellbelove pick up the mess. She’s not drunk, not even remotely, which is a shame since it was her party. 

“Don’t fret over it, Basil. I’m not a big drinker, you know that. I more enjoy the game of it.” She tells me after I express it to her. 

“Fair enough, still a shame.” 

“I didn’t think you were either, though.” She raises as eyebrow. After a beat, she glances over at me and squares her shoulders. “Simon likes you, you know. He kind of always has. I guess Penny and him had a long conversation about it and he was gonna come here tonight and try to see how it felt to be around you if you two weren’t fighting. But then you went and acted like a dick and he got upset.” 

“It’s not my fault, Agatha.” I sigh. “I can’t be nice to him.” 

“Yes you can.” 

“It’s too hard. It hurts. If I let him break my heart, I’ll lose my mind.” 

“He won’t break your heart. If you give him a chance to love you, he won’t.” 

“He broke yours.” 

“No, I broke his. But he didn’t love me that way. Sure, we love each other, but it’s different. He’s my friend.” 

“I just can’t,” I groan, falling back into the couch. I take a deep breath and my phone buzzes from my pocket. It’s probably Niall, wondering if I made it home okay. 

_ SS (1:45 am): Hey. _

“Fuck,” I whisper. 

“What? Who is it?” 

“It’s Simon,” I tell her. “He’s texting me.” 

“Are you going to reply?” 

“Should I?” 

“What? Of course you should! He’s opening another door,” 

“He’s drunk, Agatha.” 

“So? Be nice to him now. He’ll wake up, read the messages, and realize you were being kind. Maybe he’ll text you again.” 

“You’re optimistic.” 

“Brutally.” She winks. 

_ BP (1:51 am): You should be asleep. _

“Nice enough,” Agatha giggles, looking over my shoulder from behind the couch. 

“This is new to me, give me a break.” I huff. 

“I believe in you!” Agatha calls as she walks into the kitchen to gather more cups. I should really keep helping, so I stand, grab my bin, and shove my phone into my pocket. It buzzes again after a few minutes. 

_ SS (1:55 am): So should you. _

I feel the air leave my body in one large gust. Why does he have to be so gentle, and so far away? I decide to ignore him until all of the cups and cans are gone from the living room, and then I text him back. 

_ BP (2:05 am): I’m helping Agatha clean up. _

_ SS (2:06 am): That’s nice of you. You looked really good tonight. _

“Fuck me,” I whine, collapsing back onto the couch. 

“What did he say?” Agatha gasps, running back into the room. She rips my phone from my hand and lets out a shrill yelp. “Oh my god! He’s flirting with you!” 

“How are you possibly okay with this?” 

“Shut up and revel in this, Basilton. Simon Snow, the boy you’ve had a crush on since we started at this god forsaken school, is flirting with you!” 

“He’s drunk, Agatha! This isn’t really him.” 

“Drunk words are sober thoughts, Basilton!” She shouts, throwing plastic cups at me from the table. 

“Not true!” I shout back, holding my arms in front of my face to deflect the cups. 

“It is! You do look good! I know you picked that shirt on purpose because you know it makes you look hot,” she glares. “You wore that shirt for him.” 

“I did not wear this shirt for him,” 

“You so did,” 

“I’m telling him to go to bed,” 

“Fine,” 

_ BP (2:11 am): Go to bed, Simon. _

“You said his name again.” Agatha whispers from behind me again. 

“_ FUCK _,” 

**Saturday **

_ SS (11:45 am): Sorry I drunk texted you _

_ SS (11:46 am): I didn’t mean to _

_ SS (11:46 am): I mean I did mean to text you _

_ SS (11:47 am): But I didn’t mean to be drunk while doing it _

_ SS (11:50 am): So _

_ SS (11:50 am): Sorry _

_ SS (11:51 am): Also _

_ SS (11:51 am): Hi _

Bloody hell. Simon Snow is texting me in the morning. Well, it’s almost noon, but it’s morning to him. And he’s texted me eight times in the span of 6 minutes. So I reply. 

_ BP (11:55 am): Oh, you’re alive? _

_ SS (12:00 pm): Only barely _

_ SS (12:00 pm): Wasn’t planning on drinking that much _

_ BP (12:01 pm): Neither was I. _

_ SS (12:02 pm:) I thought you didn’t drink? _

_ BP (12:05 pm): I wasn’t exactly behaving properly last night. _

_ SS (12:06 pm): You seemed like yourself to me _

_ BP (12:10 pm): And yet, here we are. _

_ SS (12:11 pm): You can just tell me to stop texting you, you know _

_ BP (12:14 pm): You’re right, I could. _

_ SS (12:15 pm): Aren’t going to? _

_ BP (12:17 pm): Colour me intrigued. _

_ SS (12:20 pm): ? _

_ SS (12:21 pm): how is it that you can possibly sound pretentious even through texting? You’re something else, pitch _

_ BP (12:25 pm): Pretty easy when you’re texting with someone whose grammar is atrocious. _

_ SS (12:28 pm): Wow, you’re a dick _

_ BP (12:31 pm): And yet… _

_ SS (12:32 pm): yeah yeah, alright _

_ SS (12:33 pm): Any hangover tips? _

_ BP (12:35 pm): Can’t say I have any. Now quit bothering me, I have to work. _

_ SS (12:37 pm): Fine, I’m gonna take a shower. _

_ SS: (12:38 pm): Talk to you l8r _

_ BP (12:40): Goodbye, Snow. _

I cannot believe I’m texting Simon Snow. I’m texting Simon Snow politely, if not pleasantly, and he’s replying. He said he’d _ talk to me later _ . Simon Snow is _ going to text me later _. Which is great, and we’ve somehow made miraculous progress, but now I can’t stop thinking about him in the shower while I’m trying not to spill lattes, and it’s not working. It’s going to be a very long shift. 

3 pm rolls around and so does the end of my shift. Agatha comes in, ties her apron on, and nudges me with her hip as she brushes past me. 

“Heard from Simon today?” she asks brightly. She’s grinning. It’s unsettling. 

“Yes,” I reply, ignoring her gaze and keeping busy washing mugs. 

“What did you talk about? Did he say anything about what he said last night?” 

“No, neither of us mentioned it.” 

“Oh, so you just...chatted?” 

“Casually,” I shrug. “I’d say it’s an improvement.” 

“An improvement? I’ll fucking say! You and Simon are texting,” she sniggers quietly. “You should ask him on a date. He’d say yes.” 

“No, no way,” 

“Why not?” 

“Because that’s too much too soon, Aggie.” 

“Fine, fine,” she sighs. “But at the very least, consider it. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Coffee or lunch is fine too!” 

“I’m leaving now,” I roll my eyes, and she laughs as I throw my apron into the back room. 

“Byeee,” she waves me out the door. 

I start walking toward my flat and my phone buzzes against my hip. 

_ SS (3:10 pm): Done with work? _

_ BP (3:11 pm): Stalking me? _

_ SS (3:12 pm): No _

_ SS (3:13 pm): I just assumed you’d be done by now _

_ BP (3:15 pm): Relax, I don’t actually think you’re stalking me. Though I wouldn’t put it past you. I just left. What are you doing? _

_ SS (3:17 pm): Heading to _

_ BP: (3:18 pm): Work? _

_ SS (3:20 pm): Yeah _

_ BP (3:25 pm): Have fun with that. _

_ SS (3:35 pm): Sorry about kicking you out last week _

_ SS (3:36 pm): It was pretty shitty of me _

Oh. That was unexpected. Is he really wanting to make amends? Be friends? Could I even handle being friends, let alone more than friends, with Simon Snow? Sometimes the thought of it overwhelms me so much it gives me a headache. 

_ BP (3:41 pm): I understand why you did it. It won’t happen again. _

_ SS (3:42 pm): It’s cool if it does _

_ SS (3:43 pm): I mean _

_ SS (3:44 pm): It’s cool if you come by again _

_ SS (3:45 pm): Penny said I’m not allowed to kick you out unless you do something bad anyway _

I hold my fingers over my screen. I don’t even know how to respond to that. 

_ SS (3:47 pm): You should btw _

_ SS (3:48 pm): Come by again _

I nearly drop my phone onto my face when I read his last text. Is Snow telling me to come by the shop? No way. That’s fucking insane. He’s insane. He probably just wants another opportunity to shout at me and embarrass me. 

Although, I could. I could swing by with coffee for him and Bunce. A peace offering. I could pick up a book for class. The one we have to do a project on next week. It would be easy. Casual, even. 

_ BP (3:51 pm): Are you sure you aren’t armed with a pitchfork? _

_ SS (3:52 pm): No weapons allowed in the store _

_ SS (3:53 pm): Stapler count? _

Did Snow just...joke with me? I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. 

_ BP (3:54 pm): I might be able to handle a stapler. _

_ SS (3:56 pm): Does this mean you will? _

_ BP (3:57 pm): I’ll consider it. But not today. I have things to get done. _

_ SS (4:10 pm): Cool. Penny yelled at me for being on my phone. L8r _

_ BP (4:11 pm): Goodbye _

**Monday **

_ SS (10:14 am): We have new arrivals _

_ SS (10:14 am): You might be interested in some of them _

Christ. Snow doesn’t text me at all yesterday, but then texts me in the middle of my shift today. Fantastic. Just great. He didn’t even come with Bunce to get coffee this morning. 

I waited. I wasn’t going to be the first to send a text. I’m the one playing hard to get, I’ve been after him for years. It’s his turn to pine. 

_ BP (10:17 am): I’m working. _

_ SS (10:20 am): Come by after _

I want to reply, but we get a rush, and I know he must be feeling ignored. Is this how my life is now? Waiting until I have a free moment to text Snow again? 

When I finally catch a break, I text him back. 

_ BP (11:34 am): It's out of my way. _

A few hours go by without a response. I know the bookshop doesn’t get that busy. He must think I’m being mean. I’m not trying to. Honestly, I’d go see him if I thought I could emotionally handle it, but I know I’m not ready. I’m not ready to have his blinding smile aimed right at me. I don’t deserve that smile, not yet. It’s bad enough that I have to see him in class tomorrow, and on Thursday. If tomorrow doesn’t kill me first. 

I’m home watching football when my phone buzzes again. 

_ SS (5:12 pm): You’re really not going to come, are you? _

_ BP (5:13 pm): Were you waiting for me? _

_ SS (5:14 pm): Kinda _

Oh, well shit. 

_ BP (5:15 pm): I’m sorry. I didn’t know. _

_ SS (5:17 pm): It’s alright _

_ SS (5:18 pm): See you tomorrow _

Fuck. 

**Tuesday **

When my second class gets out, I have just enough time to run back into town and stop for coffee. Agatha will be working, which will expedite the process, and I should have no trouble getting back in time for American Literature. The one I share with Snow. 

“Vanilla latte and a coffee with milk and sugar, please,” I tell Agatha, and she looks up at me. 

“Two drinks?” 

“I’m going to my third hour.” 

“Why do you need two coffees for third hour?” 

“Don’t be thick, Agatha.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

“Wait...are you bringing coffee for Simon?!” 

“Maybe,” I snap under my breath. “Could you keep it down? I don’t need all of London to know.” 

She laughs and smiles at me the entire time she’s making our drinks, then slides them over the counter to me. Then she flicks her marker at my chest. 

“Feel free to write his name,” 

“Fuck off,” I grumble. 

I hustle back to campus and when I enter the lecture hall, Simon is already in his seat, staring at his phone on his desk. We haven’t texted all day, and he looks sad. He doesn’t look up when I enter, so he must either have zoned out entirely, or be super focused on something. I approach slowly, as not to spook him, and place his cup gently on his desk. 

“With cream and sugar,” I grin, and take my seat behind him. 

“Baz?” He looks up, turning, surprise written on his face. “You brought me coffee?” 

“To make up for not coming to the shop yesterday.” 

“Th--thank you,” he laughs. And then he smiles. 

Simon Snow is going to be the death of me. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> As usual, comments make my day and I love responding to y'all, so let me know how you're feeling down below! 
> 
> See you next week!


	5. About Letting Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh HELLO 
> 
> You might be saying “Lex, it’s Thursday,” and GUESS WHAT you’re absolutely correct, it IS Thursday. But I have an excuse: I got Pokémon Shield. So I’ve been rampaging through the Galar Region capturing the Pokemans. 
> 
> So, the chapter is late and for that I am sorry. I’m also sorry for what I’m about to say next: There will be no chapter for the next two weeks. I’m American and thus will be celebrating Thanksgiving, so I’ll be out of town! So expect chapter 6 around ~Dec 4th? I guess we’ll all find out together! 
> 
> Also, I’m posting this at work via my cell phone, so I’m sorry if the formatting is weird! I’ll fix it when I get home!  
Anyway! Here you go, please enjoy!

**Simon (Tuesday)**

I shouldn’t be upset. Baz isn’t required to come by the shop just because we’ve been texting for a couple of days. He’s not my boyfriend. Hell, he’s not even my friend. But I want to see him in an environment that’s not accompanied by alcohol, and the idea of Baz looking that good in the bookstore again has its own appeal. 

“With cream and sugar,” a voice says, a dark hand placing a to-go cup on the corner of my desk. It pulls me out of my thoughts and I swing my head up. 

“Baz?” He’s looking down at me as he sits at his desk. “You brought me coffee?” 

“To make up for not coming to the shop yesterday.” He says nonchalantly. 

“Th--thank you,” I smile, and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“You’re welcome.” He replies as he looks away. I see a blush sneak up his neck but I choose not the comment on it, even though I’m pretty sure he’d let me. 

“You look nice today,” I choose instead. The blush deepens, and he frowns at me. 

“Turn around, Snow,” 

I bite my lip and turn around again, trying to hold in my laugh. I can feel Baz kick the back of my chair, but I don’t feel daggers on my neck anymore. 

Towards the end of lecture, our professor reminds us that we have a project due the following Thursday, and that we should pick our partners now to get started as soon as possible. 

This is great. Baz and I can totally be partners! We can hang out, under the cover of working on a project, and it’s totally neutral territory! 

I try to school my face into a calm and natural expression as I turn around in my seat again, only to find that Baz is already looking at me. 

“You want to be partners, don’t you?” He sighs. 

“What?” I laugh guiltily. “That’s not—“

“If we’re partners I’ll be stuck doing all the work,” he says. 

“That’s not true! I work hard!” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really, it’ll be fun!” 

“Class projects and ‘fun’ aren’t exactly synonymous,” 

“Come on, Baz. We could get takeout and make a whole thing of it,” I plea. 

“A whole thing of it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at me. 

“Would you prefer to meet in the library with our books and our laptops, or would you rather be able to sit on a couch with Indian food while we discuss Hawthorne and Fitzgerald?” I offer, tilting my head flirtatiously. I’m definitely putting on the charm. I want to know what it’s like to have Baz on my couch, in joggers, while we eat food and banter about literature. It’s practically erotic. 

“Fine,” he resigns. “We can be partners.” 

“Really?” I laugh. “That was easier than I thought.” 

“You make a compelling argument.” 

“It’s the Indian food that sold you, huh?” 

“Perhaps,” he smirks. Baz doesn’t smile. At least, not at me. I wonder what it would look like to be on the receiving end of something other than a smirk or a sneer. He’s got perfect teeth, of course, so it’s probably beautiful. 

“When should we get started?” I ask him. 

“I’ll be out of town until Friday,” he tells me. Something flashes behind his eyes as he says it but I can’t identify it, and he breaks eye contact. “So I’m free that evening or over the weekend.” 

“Okay, I work until five on Friday, we can get together after?” 

“That should be fine,” he nods. 

“So you’re missing class on Thursday, then?” I ask. Where is he going? Why does he look worried about it? 

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s my mother’s birthday.” 

“Wait,” Baz’s mother…

“My stepmother,” he clarifies. “I’ll be visiting family in Hampshire.” 

“Oh,” I whisper. “Will you have service?” 

“It’s Hampshire, Snow, not a black hole.” 

“Right, sure,” I nod. I turn around in my seat to gather my things. 

“I’ll text you,” he says, making me pause. 

“You really don’t have to, I know it’s probably annoying…” I start, but he cracks a small grin. 

“Trust me, texting you might be the only thing that gets me through it,” 

“What?” I ask, swinging my bag over my shoulder. He does the same, and we head for the door together. 

“My family can be a bit much. My father is very controlling, and my half siblings are very young and very energetic. Except Mordelia. She’s much more like me than my father and Daphne are willing to admit.” He looks down and smiles fondly. We exit the building and head back towards town, walking side by side on the pavement. It feels normal, comfortable even.

“I didn’t know you had such a large family.” I say, after a while of walking in companionable silence. 

“Well,” he shrugs. “I’m not very close with them. But I have to attend Daphne’s party to keep up appearances with my father and his peers.” 

“Sounds like a business arrangement,” I say. 

“In a way, it is.” He agrees, shrugging again. “Staying in their good graces will benefit me in the future,” 

“For work?” 

“Precisely.” He nods. “My father has a lot of friends in high places.” 

“That’s lucky.” I tell him, and his brow furrows. 

“In some sense of the word, I suppose.” He says. 

I turn my head to look at him fully, and his expression isn’t sharp or restrained. It’s relaxed, almost wistful, and it looks like he’s thinking about something. 

“Well, I’ve gotta get to work,” I mention, as casually as possible. I don’t want him to think I’m dismissing him or our conversation. I’d talk to him all day if he’d let me, but we’re coming up on the street Ebb’s shop is on. 

“Right,” he frowns again. “Have a good night, Snow.” He says, before turning sharply and walking away. 

“Have a safe trip!” I call after him, but I’m not sure he hears me. 

**BAZ (Wednesday)**

My drive to Hampshire is uneventful, boring in its simplicity, and I’m anxious to read the messages I know Simon has been acosting my cell phone with. It’s been buzzing all morning, which means he’s probably been texting me during work again. I would scold him for it, but I’m fairly certain Bunce has already, and I’d prefer this to not hearing from him at all. 

My parents house in Hampshire is just as extravagant as it’s always been, and the warm lights from inside look far more inviting than I know them to be. 

I park behind Daphne and grab my duffle before I swing my car door open. Unfortunately, my phone will have to go ignored until later, whilst I entertain my family. 

Usually I’d let myself in, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been home and Daphne loves being a perfect housewife. I knock loudly on the hard mahogany door, and it only takes a moment before it’s being pulled open. 

“Oh, Basilton! You don’t have to knock, sweetheart.” Daphne laughs, ushering me inside. “You’re looking healthy.” 

“Thank you mother, you’re looking lovely as well.” I greet her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. I drop my bag in the hall, knowing someone will take it up to my room for me. 

“Thank you, dear.” She smiles. “Will you join us for tea?” 

“Of course,” I reply, and I follow as she leads me through the expansive entrance and sitting room, and out into the enclosed sunroom. My father and Mordelia are already sitting around the table, and father is grimacing at something Mordelia must have said. 

“Basilton’s just arrived, Malcolm.” Daphne announces as we enter. 

“Good morning, son,” 

“Hello, father.” I say as I take a seat beside my sister. 

“I trust the drive was pleasant?” He asks. 

“Yes, it was.” 

“Hey Baz,” Mordelia grunts quietly beside me. 

“Hey kid,” I laugh, bumping her with my shoulder. 

I spent most of tea answering Daphne’s questions about classes and tutorials, and all things considered she seemed happy enough, and eventually let the subject drop. Then, after a long, dreadful lunch, filled with more questions from my father about future career paths, I watched the twins play in the garden while Mordy recounted all of her primary school qualms. When they finally let me go in the late afternoon, I excused myself to my room to unpack and check my phone, as I knew I had about 100 messages from Snow. 

_ SS (9:34 am): Good morning  _

_ SS (9:36 am): Hope you got to Hampshire safe  _

_ SS (9:45 am): I’m headed into work _

_ SS (9:51 am): Did you want me to let you know what you miss tomorrow?  _

Christ. 

_ SS (11:33 am): Hey, did you make it ok?  _

_ SS (11:50 am): Baz?  _

Oh. 

_ SS (3:10 pm): Oi  _

_ SS (3:11 pm): I’ll just assume you’re fine  _

_ SS (3:12 pm): You'd be all over the news if you were dead  _

_ SS (3:15 pm): be nice to hear from you though  _

Is this what it’s going to be like? Is this how he texts Bunce? Or how he used to text Agatha? It seems almost as though he’s worried about me, but I can’t even fathom why he would be. 

_ BP (4:02 pm): Hi  _

I hit send, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Not after the ten messages I’d already received from him today. 

_ BP (4:04 pm): Much to my chagrin, I remain alive. My family figured it was the perfect time to learn everything there is to know about me in the span of 5 hours. How are you?  _

He doesn’t reply right away, and I don’t expect him to. I know he’s working, and probably not paying much attention to his phone. I busy myself with organizing my things and watching television until my phone buzzes on the table. 

_ SS (4:48 pm): I’m fine. How’s your family?  _

_ BP (4:50 pm): They’re as magniloquent as ever.  _

_ SS (4:55 pm): Are you ok? _

_ BP (4:57 pm): Yes, I’m fine. Being around them exhausts me.  _

_ SS (5:00 pm): Need a distraction?  _

_ SS (5:01 pm): Desperately.  _

_ *image received*  _

Oh god. Snow sent me a photo. I don’t know what it is, because I haven’t opened it, and I’m afraid to do so because what if it’s a picture of him? What if it’s a picture of him at the bookstore? What if it’s a picture of him looking soft and ruffled and beautiful? 

I should open it. My thumb hesitates over the file, but then I click it anyway. 

Surprisingly, it’s a picture of a large stack of old, damaged looking books, piled high against a dark wooden shelf. 

_ BP (5:10 pm): What is it exactly that I’m looking at?  _

_ SS (5:11 pm): A collection of Ebb’s timeless yet horribly fragile first editions of British and American literature  _

Holy fuck. 

_ BP (5:12 pm): Excuse me?  _

_ BP (5:12 pm): You have first editions in that shop?  _

_ BP (5:13 pm): And you didn’t think to tell me that prior to this moment?  _

_ SS (5:15 pm): Three texts from Baz Pitch? I’m honoured.  _

_ BP (5:16 pm): SNOW  _

_ SS (5:17 pm): Brontë, Plath, and Dickens to name a few  _

_ BP (5:18 pm): You’re killing me. This is the worst distraction ever.  _

_ SS (5:19 pm): you’re welcome  _

_ BP (5:20 pm): What does she do with them? _

_ SS (5:22 pm): we restore them  _

Oh, bloody Christ on a candlestick. They restore timeless first editions. Besides being utterly gorgeous and hopelessly charming, Simon Snow works in a bookstore and restores books and is basically my walking Shakespearean fantasy. Did he emerge from my psyche while I was daydreaming about unrealistic expectations in men? 

_ BP (5:25 pm): Pardon me while I go jump off a bridge.  _

_ SS (5:26 pm): not to press the matter  _

_ SS (5:27 pm): but you could come see them  _

_ SS (5:28 pm): I’m not really supposed to let anyone touch them or breathe on them or even look at them wrong but  _

_ SS (5:28 pm): I’d be willing to make an exception  _

_ BP (5:30 pm): No, I couldn’t. They’re precious. They must be so fragile.  _

_ SS (5:31 pm): No one would appreciate them more than you, though _

_ BP (5: 32 pm): Wouldn’t Ebb be angry? _

_ SS (5:33 pm): Nah _

_ SS (5:33 pm): She’s cool  _

_ SS (5:34 pm): wait you know ebb?  _

_ BP (5:35 pm): She went to school with my Aunt and my mother.  _

_ SS (5:36 pm): oh, cool  _

_ SS (5:37 pm): she’d definitely be cool with you coming then, if she knew your mum  _

_ BP (5:39 pm): Fine. If this some elaborate ploy to get me to come by the shop, you’re dead to me.  _

_ SS (5:40 pm): I thought I was dead to you already?  _

_ BP (5:45 pm): Fair point.  _

I hear a soft knock on my door followed shortly by my younger sister letting herself into my room. 

“Why’re you grinning like that?” Mordelia asks, frowning at me as she walks over. 

“No reason,” I lie, shoving my phone under a pillow. “Did I say you could come in?” 

“It’s not like this is your room, you don’t live here anymore, remember?” 

“Privacy is still a thing that exists despite my relocation, Mordelia,” I sigh, glaring at her. She’s leaning against the bedpost, looking bored. 

“Mother says dinner will be ready within an hour,” she says, ignoring me entirely. “Wants us to be down and ready by six-thirty.” 

“Then be down and ready we shall,” I reply, and I hear my phone buzz under the pillow. Mordelia’s brow furrows as she hears it too, then her eyes flicker back to me. 

“Who are you texting?” she grins mischievously. 

“No one,” I lie again, and I practically have to throw myself across the bed to stop her from taking my phone. 

“You’re blushing, you liar!” she yelps, trying to wrestle the phone from my grip.

“I’m not blushing! I’m flushed from being exhausted by you!” I grunt, successfully pulling my phone and hand away from her tiny grip. Mordelia is small, being that she’s barely eleven years old, but she’s strong and viciously persistent. She’s learned that from Daphne. 

“If you tell me who you’re texting, I’ll leave you alone,” 

“That’s not true, you won’t leave me alone until we’re both old and grey,” 

“Fine, if you tell me who you’re texting I promise I won’t give you food poisoning,” 

“Mordelia,” I sigh. “That’s actually sinister.” 

“You’re fine. You’ll survive it.” she shrugs. Is my sister evil? 

“I’m not telling you,” 

“Better hope you still have an iron stomach then,” she shrugs again, then makes to climb off the bed. 

“His name is Simon,” I relent. “He’s a guy from school.” 

“Ha!” she yelps, bouncing on the pillow-top. “You’ve never told me about a boy.” 

“Well, in all fairness, you are eleven.” 

“We both know I’m wise beyond my years and I’m one of the only friends that you have so...cough it up,” she waves her hand at me. “I wanna hear all about him.” 

“I am  _ not  _ gushing to my little sister about a boy,” 

“What? Why not?” 

“Because you’re my little sister!” 

“And I’m the only one in this family besides Fiona that is willing to acknowledge your preference for men, so can we move this along, please?” 

“God, how do you sound like a teenager already?”

“Because education is a sham, Basilton, keep up,” 

“ _ Mordelia _ ,” I groan. “Education is important.” 

“Yes, yes, I must be educated properly to ensure a bright future,” she rolls her eyes, then picks up a decorative pillow. “Tell,” she hits me with it, “Me,” again, “About,” and again, “The boy!” 

I snatch the pillow from her on her final swing and toss it across the room. “No,” 

“Baz! Come on,” 

“Why does everyone always want to talk to me about the men in my life? Is the existence of them not torture enough?” 

“He’s...mean to you?” 

“No, he’s fine,” I wave my hand. 

“Is he cute?” 

“Very,” I nod, and feel the heat on my face again. Mordelia giggles as I try to hide my face in another pillow. 

“Is he nice?” 

“To a fault,” 

“Then what’s the problem?” she asks quietly. 

“There’s more than just being cute and nice, Mordy,” 

“But why?” 

“Because nothing is that simple,” 

“But...why?” she asks again, now shaking her head at me. “If he’s cute and he’s nice and you like him, what else is there?” 

“Oh, my sweet naive child. The world has so much to teach you,” I sigh, before running a finger through her fine chocolate hair. “What I would give to be as blissfully ignorant as an eleven-year-old,” 

“Don’t be rude, Baz,” she slaps my hand away from her face. 

“I’m not,” I shrug. “It’s just a fact.” 

“Well then blissfully ignorant I will remain because you’re not giving me anything that I asked for,” 

“I already told you I’m not gushing to my sister,” 

“Who else are you gonna gush to? That statue?” she points, indicating a large marble bust of some British aristocrat. 

“No, definitely not him,” 

“I didn’t think so,” she sighs. “Fine, if you really don’t want to talk about him, I’ll go. But, you know you’re going to have a hard time staying off your phone tomorrow, and you’ll need someone to distract you,” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’ll ignore you. Leave you to father and his  _ associates _ ,” she emphasizes a posh accent on the word, and I cringe. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” I say. She almost falls off the bed with glee. 

**Thursday**

Right when I wake up, Daphne comes striding into the room holding a black garment bag, saying something about me wearing whatever was inside with no questions asked, before sweeping from the room as quickly as she came. It’s her birthday...shouldn’t she be relaxing? 

I rise from the blankets and stretch fully before investigating the bag, only to find a beautiful maroon suit that I’m sure will fit perfectly. Daphne, nor my father, would have anything less. It seems it is a formal event, then. 

After breakfast, the children are excused to go get ready for the party as it will be beginning at noon sharp, and we are all expected to be downstairs when guests arrive. I consider texting Snow to let him know I’ll be busy for most of the day, but I figure he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. I’m buttoning up my shirt as my phone buzzes on the end table. 

_ SS (10:48 am): Go woo those businessmen.  _

Of course he would say something witty, making me regret the decision not to text him. It’s like he knew. 

_ BP (10:50 am): I’ll try not to pull all of my hair out.  _

_ SS (10:51 am): We’d all like you back in one piece, please  _

The air leaves my lungs as I read it, and I have to remember that he’s probably just being polite. Or, I could indulge myself and believe he’s flirting. 

_ BP (10:53 am): Ah yes, you and all of my other friends.  _

_ SS (10:54 am): Hey, you said we’re friends, not me  _

A knock on my door signals Mordelia’s arrival, and her impending request for me to plait her hair. 

_ BP (10:55 am): Sorry, a plait situation calls.  _

I hear my phone buzz again from it’s spot on the desk, as Mordelia comes to sit in front of me. 

“Is that Simon?” 

“Most likely, yes,” I sigh, brushing through her hair gingerly. “How would you like your hair?” 

“Crown, please,” she giggles, when she notices me avoiding the subject. 

I finish doing Mordelia’s hair quickly, but she lingers around the room while I finish getting dressed. I pull my jacket up on my shoulders before assessing myself in the mirror. 

“It’ll do,” I sigh, and when I look up, Mordelia has my phone in her hand. “What are you doing?” 

“Sending a picture to Simon of you in your suit,” 

“Mordelia, no,” I groan, my stomach dropping. 

“Already done, brother,” Mordelia laughs, handing my phone back to me. 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” 

“No, he said he wanted a picture. He probably meant of my hair, but I took advantage of the opportunity.” 

“I’m going to slaughter you, Mordelia,” 

“Why? I just did you a favour. Now, come on, mother will want us waiting.” 

My phone buzzes in my hand. 

_ SS (11:36 am): Red is definitely your colour.  _

Well, shit. 

**Simon**

“I fucked up,” I tell Penny as I enter the shop after class. She’s leaning over the counter reading a textbook, and frowning down at it. 

“Why? What did you do?” she asks without looking up. 

“I kind of blatantly hit on Baz,” 

“What do you mean by ‘kind of’?” 

“I basically told him he looks fit in red,” I cringe, and she rolls her eyes at me. 

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, Simon, it probably went over his head,” 

“But Penny...he’s coming over tomorrow to work on our project for Am Lit. I need to be on my best behavior or he’ll never come over again,” I whine. “I really want him to come over again.” 

“Wait, you’re working on the project at your flat? Your internet is shit, Simon. You should go to his.” 

“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right. We haven’t even really discussed logistics yet. Either way, I’d like to step foot in each other’s flats after this. For reasons...other than this.” 

“You could just ask him out,” she shrugs. 

“You know, you keep saying that, and it’s still not going to happen,” 

“Then don’t blame me when you end up alone with a dozen cats,” 

“Who said anything about cats?” 

“Look Simon, all I’m saying is if you want action, you have to start action. You can’t just putz around waiting for him to make the first move. Also, you hated him a week ago and now you want him round your flat? Have you seen the way you live? He’d go running at first glance,” 

“Okay...mean. You know I’d clean.” 

“Shoving clothes under your bed doesn’t count as cleaning, but I digress. What I’m trying to say is, don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s always the possibility that you guys don’t actually get along, and this could all be for naught. Just don’t get your hopes up...okay?” she asks, gently placing a hand on my arm. “Don’t let him get under your skin.” 

“I can handle Baz, Penny,” I snort.

“And handle him, you will,” she laughs. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I smile down at it when I see the name on my screen. 

_ BP (3:37 pm): How does 6:30 work for you tomorrow? My place?  _

_ SS (3:40 pm): Works for me  _

_ BP (3:44 pm): Great. I’ll send you my address when I get back into town tomorrow.  _

_ SS (3:45 pm): Cool  _

_ SS (3:47 pm): How’s the party?  _

_ BP (3:50 pm): Shows no sign of stopping. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.  _

_ SS (3:53 pm): See you tomorrow!  _

Excitement floods over me and down my spine as I slide my phone back into my pocket. I’m going to see Baz tomorrow. I’m going to  _ hang out with Baz tomorrow _ . In his flat. To work on a project. Alone. Together. Ah, fuck. 

“Alright?” 

“This project is going to be a nightmare,” I sigh, crushing my face into my hands. 

“Well,” Penny laughs. “I could have told you that.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Again, I’m so sorry it was late! I hope you’ve still enjoyed it! Let me know! 
> 
> See you next month! Love you!


	6. About Opening Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter 6, and with an hour to spare! 
> 
> There won't be a chapter this Saturday, since it's finals week for me, but I know I promised a chapter this week so I rushed to get this one done for you guys! Chapter 7 should be up by sometime next weekend.   
I really appreciate all of the lovely thoughts and comments I've gotten so far on this fic, so thank you so much! We're almost at 1k hits, which is just really awesome. So thank you again for all the support! 
> 
> TW: there are very, very brief mentions of abuse, but nothing specific. Just wanted to give you a heads up, okay? 
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Simon **

My nerves are on high alert the second I open my eyes Friday morning. How am I going to make it through a full shift at work today, knowing that I’ll be in Baz’s flat in a few hours, and we’ll be talking and laughing and doing homework together? 

When did this change? When did I go from hating him to crushing on him so hard I can barely breathe? Was the hatred ever even real, or was I just avoiding the truth all along? 

I have no idea. I wish I did. I wish I had an explanation for how things have gotten so turned around, but I just don’t. I guess sometimes things don’t make sense, and you just have to take the leap and trust how they play out. 

Penny is right, though. It could be a fucking disaster. Everything I’ve made up in my head could be wrong, and then this fragile friendship I’ve built with Baz could be ruined. We could fight, we could argue, we could still perfectly well hate each other, and maybe all it will take to find out is some curry and a horribly boring school assignment. 

**Baz **

I’m eager to get on the road back to London but my father and Daphne insisted on me staying through lunch at the very least. My phone is lodged somewhere in one of the pockets of my bag, and it’s surely filled to the brim with messages from Snow. 

At least I hope it is. We didn’t get the opportunity to talk much yesterday due to Daphne’s party, but I somehow managed to sneak away and invite him over to my place to work on the project, which means that now once I get home I have to clean while simultaneously trying not to vomit from nerves. 

I’ve never had a boy in my flat. I’ve never had anyone but Fiona, Dev, Niall, and on one occasion by accident, Wellbelove, in my flat. I don’t know the protocol for this. Do I go get some beer? Do I make sure to know what channel a football game will be on? Where does he like the curry from? Should I order it before he arrives or are we going to get it and bring it back? Do I dress up or should I just wear joggers? It’s just a school assignment, surely it’s a casual affair. Right? 

There’s a reason I keep people at a distance. I tried having a boyfriend once, last year. It...didn’t work out. I’m a bit too sharp around the edges, it seems. Do I even want a boyfriend? Does Snow even want to be my boyfriend? Has the thought crossed his mind as many times as it’s crossed mine over the years? Maybe I’m content with being alone, not letting people in. It’s easier this way. But it gets lonely from time to time, and I could really enjoy the company of someone with auburn hair and patterned moles during the chilly winter nights. 

Christ, I’m fucked. 

**Simon **

The jitters are running through me like a current and I can tell it’s driving Penny mad. She’s thrown more pens at me today than in all our years working for Ebb, and at this rate her aim is near perfect. The last one nearly got me square in the eye. I just can’t help it. I’m so nervous, but also so excited to spend the evening with Baz. I know it’s not a date, that much is clear, but it’s a great opportunity to set the groundwork for what could potentially be many future dates! I can only imagine Baz’s flat is as immaculate and pristine as his every day appearance, and I just know I’ll probably feel entirely out of place among his state-of-the-art stovetop and talking refrigerator, but I couldn’t care less. I’m just eager to see him and get some unadulterated alone time. 

“Have you even done any work today?” Penny asks, coming to lean against the desk. She’s been in the back room running inventory for the last hour, while I’ve been manning the front. 

“Yes,” I shrug. “Sort of,” 

“Liar,” she smirks. “I know you’re waxing poetic in your head about Baz, but there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to get back so you might as well put that nervous energy to good use and go reorganize the children’s section or something. You’re putting me on edge with all the tapping,” 

“Sorry,” I cringe. “I didn’t think you could hear me back there. This day is dragging.” 

“Well of course it is, you need something to get your mind off it. I  _ need you _ to get your mind off it. I’m out of pens and it’s barely three,” I laugh, and she rolls her eyes at me. “You know it’s just an assignment, right?”

“Yes, I know that. And I’ve been through every possible scenario in my head, even the ones where we still in fact hate each other and he kicks me out of his flat, but only after throwing curry at me.” 

“Good, just had to check,” Penny laughs, and then her gaze shifts down. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, actually,” 

“What?” I straighten. 

“I don’t want to stir the pot, Simon, but I think you need to tread carefully in regards to these feelings you think you have for Baz,” 

“What?” I repeat. 

“Before you do anything stupid, like flirt or make a move, just make sure it’s what you really want,” she shrugs, but her eyes are on her knotted fingers. 

“Penny, what are you on about?”

“Just...don’t be impulsive about this, okay?” 

“Why does it seem like you know something I don’t?” I ask apprehensively, and she bites her lip nervously. 

“Look, Si, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You get attached to people really easily, especially when they’re nice to you. You’re quick to forgive, because you don’t like conflict and I think it would be wise for you to not rush things with Baz if they end up going well later, okay? Don’t get me wrong, I’m in full support of this, because I want to see you happy, but you’ve both been through a lot of stuff and I think that needs to be taken into consideration before you jump headlong into a relationship.” 

“Whoa, I never said anything about a relationship. Why does it sound like you’ve been trying to talk me out of this the last few days? You were full steam ahead last week! Did Agatha or Baz say something to you?” 

“Maybe…” She shrugs. “Agatha might have mentioned something at her party.” 

“What did she say?” 

“It’s really not my place, Simon.” 

“Pen,” I groan. “You can’t bring it up and then not tell me.” 

She looks up at me, and then shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. 

“Fine. Agatha had mentioned that Baz doesn’t have the best track record with interpersonal relationships. So, just be careful. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” 

“You think I’m going to hurt him?” 

“I don’t know Simon, I think you might have the potential to hurt each other.”

“That’s not specific to us, you know.” 

“I know, but Agatha seems to think you two are a perfect match, so for everyone’s sake I hope this works out.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pen.” 

“You know I don’t mean it like that, Simon.” 

“It’s whatever, I’m going for a walk,” I shrug, brushing past her and walking toward the front door. “I’ll be back in a little.” 

The air hits me like a brick wall when I step outside. It’s cold, as it usually is this time of year, and I can almost smell the impending rainstorm. I know Penny means well. She always does. She’s worried about me, and it sounds like Agatha is worried about me and Baz, too. But it’s not like we’re rushing into anything. A first name on a cup, complimentary cup of coffee, and a flirtatious remark about a dashing suit doesn’t exactly make for a budding romantic relationship. It’s somewhere between friendly and romantic, but it’s not distinctly one or the other, and this is a line I’m perfectly fine with walking for awhile. At least until things make more sense. At least until we establish a friendship. At least until we know we don’t hate each other. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I cross the street, and I hope it’s not Penny, asking me to come back to the shop. I need just a minute more. 

I glance down at my phone, and it’s Baz. 

_ BP (3:46 pm): Heading back to London now. Still good for tonight?  _

Thank god. 

_ SS (3:46 pm): Yeah. Where do you want food from? I’ll pick it up on my way over after work.  _

_ BP (3:47 pm): I don’t have a preference.  _

_ BP (3:48 pm): Surprise me.  _

_ SS (3:48 pm): Okay :)  _

Why does that sound so...flirtatious? Is Baz flirting with me? I mean, I flirted with him last night, and on Tuesday, and over text last week. I’m not above it. But I didn’t expect him to do it back. 

What the fuck am I gonna get us to eat? 

I stroll back into the shop and Penny has her eyes focused downward on something in front of her, and she doesn’t look up when the door bell rings, which means she knows it’s me. 

“Simon,” she says as I hang my coat up, and I want to cringe at the tone of her voice. It’s apprehensive, but apologetic, which means she probably wants to finish our conversation from earlier. 

“Yeah?” I reply as I slowly walk over to the desk. I rest my elbows on it and try to keep my shoulders relaxed, even though I want to go hide myself away upstairs. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. You know I want to see you happy. I know we’re all kind of jumping the gun on the Baz situation because it’s new and it’s exciting, but I also don’t want you to get your hopes up if he turns out to be exactly who you always thought he was.” 

“I know, Pen. I’m sorry for storming out, too. I know you care.” 

“Of course I do, you’re my best friend.” 

“And you’re the only family I’ve got, so I reckon I better not fuck this up,” I say and it makes her laugh, relief washing over her features. She takes her glasses off and runs a hand through her fluffy curls, and then sighs lightly. 

“It’s almost time,” she smirks at me. 

“I know. I’m practically chomping at the bit. He asked me to surprise him with dinner,” 

“Oh, now you’re bringing dinner?” She wiggles eyebrows at me. “This is starting to sound like more than homework.”

“We need to eat, Penny!” I laugh. “Brain fuel or whatever.” 

“You’re right. No possible way you’ll get carried away chatting and not get the assignment done.” 

“Hush,” I flush. She knows me way to well. 

“Simon Snow! Is that the plan?!” She shouts, playfully punching me with a small fist. 

“No!” 

“Liar! Simon!” She howls. “You need to work on the project!” 

“Stop!” I laugh. “I know! We will! But I want to get to know him, Pen.” 

“Get to know him after you finish your assignment, Simon.” 

“Why not both?” I wink, and she laughs brightly and covers her face with her hands. 

“Bloody hell, you’re someone else today.” She remarks and I laugh, and then a few customers come through the door. 

After work, Penny and I walk toward our respective flats, and she’s rambling on about some professor of hers, but I’m not listening. I should be listening, but I can’t stop thinking about Baz. I’m leaning more towards nervous and less towards excited even though it’s just homework, and I’m nearly digging my nails into my palms in the pockets of my jacket. 

“Simon, are you listening?” Penny asks, drawing my attention back to her. 

“Uh, yeah,” I nod. 

“No you weren’t. Thinking about Baz again?” 

“Maybe,” I flush, and Penny shoves me with her shoulder. 

“Alright you mess, go freshen up and call me later to tell me how it goes. I want to hear everything and before you ask, it can’t wait until tomorrow!” Penny laughs as we part, and I see her devilish smirk as she turns around and walks away from me. I guess it’s showtime, then. 

I arrive at Baz’s flat at six-thirty, sharp. I’ve a plastic bag full of curry and samosas and I can feel the steam rising up into my hand, increasing the clamminess tenfold. I raise my hand to knock, but I can’t seem to make it move. It’s just stuck, hanging in front of Baz’s fancy door, and suddenly I feel like I’m made of stone. Fuck. 

It’s just homework, Simon. It’s just curry, Simon. It’s just Baz and his posh flat, Simon. But it’s not. It’s an assignment that’ll be so easy for Baz to do on his own he could do it in his sleep, and it’s a meal we’re sharing that we clearly both enjoy, and it’s Baz, the guy I have a huge bloody crush on inviting me into his home, inviting me into his private space, when we very well could have done this at a cafe or a library. This is so much more than just homework and curry. This is so much more than just kicking back with Baz Pitch. It’s so much more than everything. And I’m completely screwed. 

I just have to knock. 

That’s it. 

First step. 

Easy. 

I look at my watch. 

It’s fucking six thirty five. I’ve been standing outside Baz’s door for five whole minutes fretting over this bloke. Bloody hell. 

I rest my knuckles against the door, but it doesn’t make any noise. So I lift, and let the weight of my arm carry my fist back into the wood. I’ve done it. I’ve knocked. Once. 

The door swings open after a matter of seconds, and there he is.  _ Holy shit. _

Baz is wearing joggers, and I’m one wrong look and a heartbeat away from passing out. If I thought he looked comfortable at the shop last week, this is a whole new kind of monster. Baz looks positively  _ plush _ . 

**Baz **

He’s here. He’s actually here, at my flat. And he’s...staring at me? I opened the door to see him standing pin-straight with a bag of food in his hands, and a blush creeping up his neck. The second he saw me, his eyes trailed down my body as slow as molasses, and now he’s staring at me with the most bizarre expression with his mouth hanging open.  _ Mouth breather _ . 

“Snow,” I say, and it seems to startle him. “Are you going to work from the hallway or would you like to come in?” 

“Uh--yeah, sorry. I’ll come in.” He nods, and I open the door wider to allow him room to enter. He looks around my flat, and if his mouth hangs open any longer, bugs will fly in. 

“You can set the food on the table, I’ll get some plates.” 

“Oh, yeah okay, sure. I got red curry and samosas.” 

“Sounds good. Want something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” he nods, awkwardly standing by the table, his hand still resting on the bag. Good, then. He’s nervous too. It’s not just me. 

I gather plates from the cupboard as well as a cold pitcher of water from the fridge, and join Snow at the table. He sits, finally, and I sit across from him. We don’t speak as we split the food between us, and we’re still quiet as we take a few bites. Snow pours himself some water, takes a sip, and then clears his throat. 

“How was Hampshire?” he asks. 

“Riveting,” I reply, smirking. 

“Do you not like spending time with your family?” 

“I told you they can be exhausting. I suppose it’s not their fault, though. My siblings can’t help that they’re all a decade or more younger than me, and I know my parents mean well. You know how it is,” I shrug and wave my hand aimlessly. Snow frowns and then looks down at his food for a moment, playing with a piece of chicken, but not eating it. 

“I don’t actually,” he shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t have any family.” 

Oh my god. He’s been here a total of ten minutes and I’ve already fucked up. There’s no coming back from this. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” I tell him. 

“No, not your fault at all. Not exactly a conversation starter, is it?” He laughs. “I grew up in care homes. Moved around a lot as a kid, and I even lived with a foster family for a bit, but it didn’t work out. When I was eighteen, I signed myself out and got my own flat when I started working for Ebb.” 

“Oh,” I say, but it comes out as a whisper. Simon Snow, the orphan. I never would have thought with the way he acts. I imagined he had a huge family with tons of siblings that were raised somewhere perfect, where the sun always shines and they eat rainbows and warm hugs for breakfast. Anyone else would be dreadfully jaded from a childhood spent in care homes. 

“Oi, it’s nothing, Baz. Really,” he shakes his head. “I don’t mind.” 

“You just seem so...okay,” I frown, irritated with my own response. “I mean--”

“I am okay.” he starts. “It’s taken a really long time, especially after my experience with my foster family, but with the structure of school, work, and my friendship with Penny, I’m really happy with where I’m at, you know? I don’t need a family to complete me.” 

“I feel like such a twat for complaining about my family now,” I grumble. 

“Don’t,” he laughs. “It’s funny, really. I like it.” 

_ What? _

“What? Why?” 

“I think it’s cute that you have that kind of relationship with your sister. It reminds me of the way Penny is with her brothers. It’s fun to watch, you know? Even with the other boys in care, I was always the odd ball and I got into fights so no one ever really wanted to hang out with me, so I like hearing stories or watching siblings interact. Is that weird?” he smiles crookedly, and it’s  _ so charming _ . 

“No, not at all.” I say and his smile straightens, and it’s like he’s put on the high beams. “Well, I have plenty of stories so I’ve got hours of entertainment for you whenever you want it.” 

“Hahaha, thanks,” he laughs, and the sounds comes from deep within his chest. It’s a warm sound, a summer afternoon, and I can practically see my own flush form on my cheeks. Our plates are clear, but neither of us are moving, and it’s nearing seven. I don’t want to break this fragile rapport, but we really should work on the assignment. Regretfully, I stand. 

“So...I’ll just do these dishes really quick and then we can get started, yeah?” 

“Let me help, it’ll be faster.” He smiles, and I find myself willing to do pretty much anything for it at this point. 

“Alright then. I’ll rinse, you dry.” 

“Deal, hand me a towel.” 

After washing the dishes, which was so gut-wrenchingly domestic I almost passed away, we’ve settled ourselves into my fine leather couch. While he plugs in his computer and rummages around in his bag, I take the opportunity to get a good look at Simon Snow. 

He’s wearing trackies, of course, but he’s also wearing a soft-looking hoodie and his hair is ruffled in just a way I can almost see where he’s run his fingers through it. There’s a line of moles that trail in a line up his neck and onto his cheek, and I absently wonder what it would be like to kiss those moles one by one...

He clears his throat, and I know I’ve been caught. I try to play it off like I’ve zoned out, but I think I fail miserably, because he’s flushing again. 

“So, what should we analyze? I was thinking about The Great Gatsby and The Scarlet Letter.” 

“No way, we are not doing Gatsby,” I laugh incredulously. “Everyone will be doing Gatsby.” 

Snow rolls his eyes at me. I decide I love it. “Well, what would you have us do, then?” 

“This Side of Paradise,” I say. “Still a romance, but the themes aren’t nearly as dark, and no one gets hit by a car or bleeds out in a pool.” 

“I haven’t read that one, though,” he frowns and his eyes fall to his lap. 

“Well then, you’re in luck Simon Snow. I happen to have read it many times.” 

“Of course you have,” he laughs. “Shouldn’t surprise me.” 

“You work in a bookshop, I’m surprised you  _ haven’ _ t read it.” 

“Eh, I prefer fantasy.” 

“Dragons and magic more your speed?” 

“Exactly,” he smiles. “The American classics don’t really butter my scones, you know?” 

“When you put it that way I know exactly what you mean,” I laugh. Maybe this project won’t be so horrible after all. 

We buckle down and wring out the powerpoint to its fullest potential, and at nine-thirty, we’re finally done. I shut my laptop with a click, and place it gently on the table. 

I look at Snow. He’s still got his computer in his lap, but his eyes are closed and his head is resting against the back of the couch. Did Simon Snow fall asleep on my couch? 

He must feel my staring, because he opens one eye to look at me. “What?” he asks. 

“Just want to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep. It would require a lot of my strength to remove you from my flat if that were the case.” I smirk. He closes his eye again and huffs a small laugh. 

“You would let me sleep in your hallway?” 

“Yes, I would.” I reply. 

“You’re too kind. Most would throw me out the window.” 

“Well, I don’t particularly want a murder case on my hands, so the hallway will do.” I joke. “Would you like some tea?” 

“Ha, sure.” Snow answers, still without opening his eyes. I didn’t think my couch was that comfortable, and I certainly never imagined Simon Snow sinking down into it with pleasure. 

I busy myself with the kettle, and I hear him finally start to put his things into his bag. 

I bring the tea over to the couch like I always do with Fiona, and set it on the table in front of us. 

“You’re such a gracious host,” he laughs. 

“Don’t insult me, I still reserve the right to have you removed, you know, and I’m beginning to seriously consider it.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll be nice.” he smiles, and pours some cream into his tea. 

I find myself eager to know more about him. About his childhood. About this mysterious foster family. About how he ended up as an English Literature major at a good school with a perfect job and a fabulous best friend, and for a short period of time, a girlfriend like Wellbelove. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I say, before I can stop myself. 

“Sure,” he shrugs at looks at me expectantly. 

“What happened with your foster family?” I ask carefully. His eyes widen, and he coughs into his tea. 

“Wow, you cut straight to the point,” 

“Sorry, oh my god, you don’t have to answer that.” 

“No, no, it’s fine actually,” he smiles softly. “No one ever really asks.” He brings his legs up underneath him, and clears his throat. “My foster father was kind of a twat. He was super controlling and abusive, both physically and emotionally. I wasn’t allowed to have friends or do anything unless he gave me specific instructions to do so. There were no other kids in the house and his wife had died, so he always took his anger out on me. I was only with him for eight months, but I was miserable. I don’t know how he got approved for foster care, the guy was a monster.”

Holy shit. I shouldn’t have asked. I really, really, shouldn’t have asked. 

“I spent the first part of my eighteenth year with Penny’s family, since I didn’t have enough money saved to afford my own place, and that’s when she and I got really close. We’d known each other during secondary, and were pretty much fast friends, but living together really solidified the relationship.” he smiles fondly, staring down at his hands. “I don’t talk about my childhood much, you know? Makes people uncomfortable, so, sorry if it did..” 

“Simon, no. I’m really sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to cross a line.” 

“Baz I told you, it’s really fine, I promise. I wouldn’t have answered you if I didn’t want to,” he looks at me, emotion swimming behind his eyes. “It’s nice to talk to someone about it. It’s been awhile. Living with David isn’t a fond memory, but care wasn’t all bad. And things have only gotten better since, so there’s really nothing to complain about.” 

“Well, thank you for telling me then, I suppose,” I smile, and he smiles brightly back at me. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for caring enough to ask.” he says. “I should get going, though. It’s getting kind of late.” 

“Are you sure? If you’re tired you can sleep on my couch, I was only joking about the hallway.”  _ Shut up, Basilton _ . 

“No, I’ve intruded enough for one night I reckon,” he laughs. “Thanks, though.” 

“Well thanks for making this work, I’m glad we got it done early. Saves us the trouble of rushing on it later.” 

“That’s true.” Snow says, swinging his bag over his shoulder. I follow him to the door, and he pauses, as if he’s waiting for me to say something. “Well, see you Tuesday, Baz.” 

He turns, and as he starts walking down the hallway, I feel myself follow him. 

“Snow,” I call, and he turns, looking at me expectantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to meet for coffee on Sunday?”  _ Please say yes.  _

“Yes--Yeah, yes.” he laughs. “That sounds great--yeah, I mean--sounds good.” 

“Good--I mean. Cool, yeah. I’ll text you.” 

“Okay, goodnight, Baz.” he smiles, and then walks around the corner. 

“Goodnight, Simon,” I reply, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat it’s way right through my ribs. 

**Simon **

Penny answers on the second ring. 

“How’d it go?” 

“We’re getting coffee Sunday morning,” 

“That’s awesome, Si!” 

“And,” I breathe. “He called me Simon.  _ Twice _ .” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed. As always, let me know what you think! 
> 
> Baz and Simon are getting into the ~romance~ zone in the next chapter, so get excited! See you guys next week! 
> 
> Love ya!


	7. About Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what's that?
> 
> You wanted 4k+ words of mutual pining followed by unadulterated fluff? 
> 
> Here you go then. Enjoy.

**Baz**

It’s been two weeks since Snow and I started seeing each other regularly, and things--at least in my opinion--are going fairly well. We’ve had dinner dates, film dates, many coffee dates, and the occasional night in. It’s been so easy, alarmingly easy in fact, to get to know Simon Snow in an intimate way. Well, as intimate as things can be whilst still keeping our clothes on. 

Snow is magnificent. I used to fawn over his looks and his charms from a comfortable distance, but he’s so much more now than all of those things I had initially falling for. I fell for those things before I knew him. He’s not just copper curls and cinnamon spotted skin--he’s blue-sky mornings and warm mugs of breakfast tea. He’s a cozy fire on a stormy evening. He’s a good heart and a sharp mind, and to me, he’s perfect. 

Before I knew him, I thought Snow was just nice to others out of the kindness of his heart. But now, I know it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else to feel how he felt when he was a child. He doesn't want anyone else to feel cold, lonely, sad, or forgotten. He wants to give others what the people in his life never gave him, which was unconditional love. And watching him be who he is, sometimes feels like a hot iron in my heart. He’s so good. He’s too good. Too good for me. 

I love watching Simon Snow. I love watching him flip through books like they’re precious. I love watching his mouth as he drinks the coffee I made him in the way I know he likes it. I love watching him smile, and laugh, and I even love watching him frown, but only when he’s frowning at me. I know I fell for Snow a long time ago, but that was before I knew him. But now I know him just a little bit better, and I’m falling harder and faster than I ever have before. 

Snow and Bunce are sitting in one of our booths, drinking their coffee and working on homework. It’s Wednesday, and I’m trying to work, really, but he’s just so distracting. Agatha keeps catching me staring at him, which results in hip-checks and elbows to the ribs. She supports us, obviously, but she’s irritated that I haven’t ushered the relationship along into the next stage. 

“Your birthday is on Friday, right, Baz?” Wellbelove mentions casually, pouring foam into a latte. She sets it down and looks up at me, but rolls her eyes when she sees my scowl. 

“You better not be plotting anything, Agatha,” 

“I’m not! I know you don’t like surprises,” she smiles, before calling out the customer’s name and sliding the to-go cup across the counter. “Do you and Simon have plans?” 

“No, we don’t,” I tell her, still scowling. She’s definitely up to something. 

“Does he know it’s almost your birthday?”

“Yes, he does,” 

“Hmm,” she hums. “Okay,” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Because you guys have been seeing each other for two weeks and neither of you will refer to it as what it actually is,” she frowns. “Dating.” 

“We’re not dating,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. 

“You’ve been on half a dozen dates, Baz. You’re dating,” she says. 

“Be quiet, Agatha. Christ, they have ears,” I shush her. “And Snow and I haven’t even really talked about it much. We’re mostly just getting to know each other.” 

“I can’t believe you still call him by his last name. He has a first name, you know. You could use it.” 

“I do use it. Just not to you,” 

“Oh?” she quirks an eyebrow. 

“Not like _ that _, Agatha,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Sometimes it just...slips.” 

“That’s adorable.” she snorts. “Have you two snogged yet?” 

“Oh my god, Agatha, no,” I cringe. “I do not _ snog _. I didn’t even know that word was in your vocabulary.” 

“Ugh, fine! Have you even kissed him yet?” 

“...No.” 

“Basilton!” Agatha shouts, and I internally chastise myself for getting her riled up. I look over to Snow and Bunce’s booth, and they’re both frowning curiously at us. 

“Spilled some steamed milk, nothing to worry about,” I say casually, in general, to the whole of the cafe. Snow’s frown deepens as he looks at me, but I just shrug and turn my attention back to the screaming blonde in question. 

“Nice one, Wellbelove,” I sneer. “Now he knows we’ve been talking about him.” 

“Kiss him, Baz,” she says, deadpan. 

“What?” 

“You need to kiss him,” 

“Right--Right now?” 

“No, not right now, you prat. Later, whenever you’re alone with him again.” 

“Why?” 

“Um? Because it’s fun? Because he likes you? Because you both want to but are too shy to admit it? Plus, it’ll help move things along.” 

“Alright, enough,” I wave my hand at her. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’ll kiss Simon when I damn well please, thank you.” 

“You called him Simon,” Agatha giggles. “You call him Simon when you’re feeling soft.” 

“Stop it,” 

“Oh my god, Basilton Pitch is a hopeless romantic!” she squeals. 

“_ Agatha _,”

“I have to go inform the tabloids,” 

“Stop teasing me,” I grumble, right as a customer approaches the counter. Agatha greets them, and I aimlessly glance around the room. When I get to Snow, he’s already smiling at me. 

Friday 

I wake up before my 5 am alarm, and it’s still dark outside. The birds are still quiet, and for now, the day is peaceful. I know we’ll have a morning rush, we always do, and I know I won’t get to see Snow. That’s becoming more difficult lately--the going hours and days without seeing him. We didn’t have class yesterday because our professor was out of town, and Snow was called in by Ebb to come help at the shop during the day. I tried to stop by to see him, but he said he would be too busy to really be able to chat. So I buried myself in a book in the morning and hung out with Fiona at night. I haven’t seen him or really spoken to him much since Wednesday afternoon, which is disappointing.

We haven’t talked about my birthday at all, Snow and I, aside from when I casually mentioned that Fiona and I usually drive up to Hampshire to have dinner with my family. He looked sad when I told him, so my decision had been made. This year I want to stay in London and celebrate my birthday with Snow. All I want for my birthday this year is to be with him. 

Around 9:30, the bell above the door rings out and without looking up from the drink I’m making, I say hello politely, and let them know I’ll be right with them. Agatha has taken a call, so it’s just me at the counter until she comes back, and thus I’m required to multitask. I finish up the flat white, set it down gingerly on the counter, and turn to my customer. 

“Good morning,” Snow says, smiling warmly at me. An ache I didn’t know I had pulls at my heart, and I feel a smile spread across my face as well. 

“Good morning to you, too,” I tell him. “I didn’t think it’d be seeing you. Where’s Bunce?” 

“She’ll meet me at the shop,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Oh,” I say. “Just the regular for you two then?” 

“Please,” he replies, his smile not drooping in the slightest. I--mournfully--turn away from him and pull two to-go cups from the stack. “And Baz?” 

“Yes?” I answer, turning the knob on the espresso machine. 

“Happy Birthday,” he says. “I don’t have your gift with me, I’ll give it to you later.” 

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything,” I answer, feeling the blush creep up my neck. 

“Yes, I did. I wanted to,” 

“Okay, well, thank you,” I say. “You really shouldn’t have,” 

“Well, tough shit.” he laughs. 

I busy myself with finishing up his drinks, acutely aware of his eyes on me the entire time. It is very difficult to not spill a latte when you know you’re being watched. I place the lids on their drinks and hand them over, and Snow hands me his debit card. 

“Will I get to see you later?” He asks quietly. “I know I probably should have tried to make plans sooner but I hadn’t really gotten a chance to.”

“My evening is wide open,” I tell him, and his eyes light up again. 

“You’re not going to Hampshire?” he gapes. 

“No, I decided not to. Fiona is ecstatic.” 

“Good then,” he grins. “I’m coming over.” 

“Are you?” I laugh. “I don’t recall inviting you.” 

“I’m inviting myself. I’m also,” he smirks. “Cooking you dinner.” 

“You can cook?” 

“I guess you’ll find out.” he says coyly as he turns to leave. 

“Simon!” I call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door, laughing. 

**Simon**

Tonight’s the night. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask Baz to be my boyfriend. 

I’ve already curated the perfect evening to suit my goal. I’m gonna show up at his flat in my most flattering outfit, groceries in hand, and I’m gonna whip up a delicious and romantic meal for two. Then, while we’re a bit sloshed on the red wine I’m bringing, I’m going to kiss him, and then I’m going to ask him to be my boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

“You’re insane,” Penny says. 

“What?” I stop, looking up from the shelf I’m organizing. 

“You’re going to cook for him? You’ll end up burning his flat to the ground if you’re not careful, Simon.”

“Well, we better hope I don’t. If I set his flat on fire I set the cafe on fire too.” 

“What are you even planning on making?”

“Pasta,” I shrug. 

“What...kind of pasta?” she frowns. 

“Like...with sauce?” I squint at her. “I don’t understand why you’re confused.” 

“That’s hardly cooking, Simon!” 

“No, Penny! I’m going to make the sauce. It’s got meat and green peppers--”

“Where did you learn how to make that?” 

“Pinterest,” I reply. She raises her eyebrows at me. “I’ve made it before, for myself. It’s good.” 

“Thank goodness,” she sighs. “I thought you were planning on winging it.” 

“Well, no. If I want him to be my boyfriend I’d better be more prepared than just winging it, right?” 

“You’re actually trying,” she stares at me, squinting quizzically. 

“Why are you saying it like that?” 

“I’m just…” she pauses, shrugging and looking down. “I’m impressed, Simon. You guys have really come a long way in the last few weeks. I’m really happy this has worked out for you, is all. I like seeing you excited about something.” 

“Um, thanks, Pen. I am excited. But, he could still say no.” 

“He’s not going to say no,” she laughs. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Quite similar to the way I look at him, I’d reckon,” 

“Yes, extremely. Maybe more starry eyed, if that’s even possible,” 

“Oh, stop,” I laugh, waving my hand at her. “Baz is too cool to get starry eyed,” 

“That’s not true! He’s obsessed with you, Agatha told me so,” 

“What?!” 

“Don’t act like this is news, Simon.” 

“It is news!” 

“No, it’s not. You know he’s had a crush on you since our first year at Watford,” 

“Ummmmm, no?” I gasp, and nearly clip my knee in an attempt to jump around the shelf. “This is news to me!” 

“He hasn’t told you? You’ve been dating for over two weeks!” 

“We’re not dating! Not yet!” 

“But surely he would have brought it up?” 

“No,” I whisper. “He hasn’t. You don’t understand what you’ve done, Penny,”

“I’m really sorry, Simon, I didn’t mean to--”

“This is great! I’m going to get him so good,” 

“Wait, what?” 

“He doesn’t know I know this. I have the upper hand!” 

“You’re very strange, Simon Snow,” 

“Oh--yes, I know.” I grin. 

I check my watch, and it’s nearing five. Penny frowns at me, confused by my outward excitement, and begins to help me close up the shop. 

When we lock the door behind us, Penny’s still frowning at me. 

“Well, I hope it goes well,” she says when we reach her street. “Good luck with your new information?”

“Thank you, I think it will go most excellently, Penelope Bunce. Tomorrow, I might have a boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, I hope you do, so that you two can shut up about it,” she laughs, before shoving away from me. “Have a good night!” she calls out as we walk away from each other. I wave after her, and head toward my own flat. 

**Baz **

I’m tugging at the sleeves of my jumper I’m so nervous. It’s utterly ridiculous, I’ve never been this nervous for anything. Not finals, not corporate meetings with my father, not even for family dinners with my frightening grandparents. Leave it to Simon Snow to have me wanting to crawl out of my own skin. 

The rough knock on my door startles me from where I’m attempting to rest casually on the couch, and I jump up to answer it. Behind the door, Snow stands with his hands full of groceries and his signature bright smile on his face. 

“Hi,” he greets. 

“Hello, do you need help?” I answer. 

“You could take the wine I’m about to drop,” he says, lifting one shoulder to indicate the bottle being held precariously under his arm. I slide it out quickly, and he huffs out of a laugh of relief. I stand aside to let him in, and he heads toward my kitchen. I look down at the bottle, and frown when I notice he somehow managed to get my favorite cabernet, from my favorite winery. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not psychic,” he says, looking at me as he sets the bags down on the island. “I’ve seen it on your counter a few times, so I hazarded a guess. Did I get it right?” 

“Yes,” I answer. “You did.” 

“Good. Where are your knives?” he asks, and I narrow my eyes at him. 

“Why do you need a knife?”

“To...chop vegetables?” he answers, his brow furrowing. “Why does everyone seem confused by my cooking skills?” 

“I’m not surprised,” I tell him, as I direct him to the drawer with the knives. “I’m intrigued. Do you need any help?”

“No, I got it.” 

“It’ll be faster if I help,” 

“Fine,” he laughs. “You can open the tomato paste and chop the onions.” 

“I see how it is. You want me to cry on my birthday.” 

“Oh, hush,” he huffs. 

I join him at the island with another cutting board, and together we chop all the peppers, tomatoes, onions and garlic, before he transfers them into a sizzling pan. He’s got seasoned ground beef cooking in another pan, and it’s starting to smell absolutely heavenly. I turn and lean against the island as he tosses the vegetables with the tomato paste, and I steal a selfish glance at the handsome fellow that’s cooking my dinner, in my kitchen. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, exposing his freckled forearms. It makes my stomach flip, and not in a bad way. If I had any say in it, he’d be sitting on my counter with my tongue in his mouth right now, and that’s where he’d stay for a good long while. 

“Can you fill another pot with water, please?” He turns to ask, and I blink away quickly, clearing my throat. 

“Yup,” I answer, bending down to pull the pot from the cupboard. “Are we having pasta?” 

“We are,” he nods, and begins adding the meat into the sauce. “Is that okay?” he asks, after I don’t respond. He looks over at me, and blushes when he catches me smiling fondly at him. 

“No one’s ever cooked for me before. Other than my parents, of course. I think you should do this all the time,” I say, and he snorts. 

“You haven’t even tasted it yet, it could be horrible.” 

“Doesn’t smell horrible. It smells delicious,” 

“Well, here,” he says, lifting the sauce spoon to my face. “Taste it. Tell me what it needs,” 

I open my mouth, and the sauce hits my tongue in a whirlwind of flavour. It’s hearty from the meat, but the flavours are bright from the fresh vegetables. It’s really, really delicious. 

“Wow. That’s excellent, Snow.” I say, licking my lips. He doesn’t reply, he just stares at my mouth. 

Leaning in would be easy, I could just do it. I could just let him taste the sauce from my mouth, so he could decide for himself what it needs. 

He shakes his head, ruining my thoughts, and asks, “What does it need?” 

“I’m not sure, I’d say nothing.” I shrug. 

“Do you want it to be a bit spicy? I can add chili flake.” 

“No, it’s good.” 

“Okay,” he grins, and turns back to it. I busy myself with pulling bowls and cups from the cupboard to set the table for us. I also open the wine, and pour two glasses. Snow finishes up as I re-cork the bottle and we bring the food and wine over to the table. 

“Thank you,” I say as we sit, and he blushes. 

“You’re welcome. Happy Birthday, Baz,” he hums, and it hits me right in the chest. He’s looking at me so softly, and he looks so right in my kitchen, and in my home, and in my life. I wish I could keep him here with me forever. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly. He takes my bowl and serves me some pasta, and then hands it back to me. “You look sad.” 

“No, I’m the opposite of sad. I’m just thinking about how much better this is than spending my birthday with my family,” 

“Why did you end up staying, anyway?” 

“That’s easy,” I answer. “I wanted to spend it with you.” 

“Oi, Baz,” Snow laughs into his hand. “Don’t lie to me,” 

“I’m not lying, Simon,” I start, but my giggles threaten to kick in as well, and I have to fight to keep my face and my voice even. “I’m being serious.” 

His laughter fades to a stop and he looks at me incredulously. “Wait, what?” 

“Spending my birthday with my family is just what I’ve always done because I’ve never had anything better to do, but this year I do.” I reply nonchalantly, taking a bite of my food. It really is excellent. 

“Baz,” Snow stops, still staring at me. 

“Snow,” 

“That’s--why did you---what?” 

“It’s what? I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions. If I could spend my birthday with the cute bloke I’ve been seeing, why wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t have this any other way, believe me.” 

“I wouldn’t either,” he says, and his blush rises higher as he smiles. 

“Good,” I nod. 

We finish our food quickly, hardly making room to talk because it was so good. Snow laughs at me when I lean back in my seat with a hand on my stomach, and rises to take our dishes to the sink. When I hear the water start, I jump out of my chair. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, snaking my arms around him to turn off the water. “You cooked, I’ll clean.” 

“Fine,” he laughs, and swaps places with me. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder, watching me as I rinse the dishes. We’ve gotten more comfortable and thus more casual with touching each other affectionately over the last two weeks--like cuddling on the couch and holding hands while walking--but this is another level of affection. It seems the wine is making him bolder. 

When I’m finished with the bowls, I flick the water off and spin around to face him. He starts and goes to pull away, but my firm grip on his arms stops him. 

“Thank you for making dinner,” I hum, leaning into him. I can feel his heartbeat, and it’s racing just as fast as mine. 

“You’ve already thanked me twice,” he whispers. 

“Well, it was very delicious. You should do it more often,” 

“Oh, what, cook for you?” he snickers. 

“I don’t hate the idea of you in my kitchen,” I reply.

“How about we start with breakfast tomorrow, and go from there?” he says against my lips, and before I’ve even registered, I’ve closed the distance. 

The hum that escapes him shoots right through me like a current, and it takes everything in my power not to melt into him completely. His hands are grasping desperately at my back, and mine have managed to find their way into his copper strands, and I’m tugging on them indulgently. 

Kissing Simon Snow is like being in fire, and instead of running, you’re letting it consume you and you’re thanking it when it does. He’s all brute strength, but his hands are cautious and his lips are softer than I’d ever imagined they’d be, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I’m finally, finally making out with him--and it’s in my kitchen, on my birthday, after he’s just made us an exquisite meal. 

We eventually pull away for air and we’re both gasping for it, but we can’t take our eyes on each other. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, and I smirk. 

“I have a pretty good guess,”

Then he’s kissing me again, and I decide to take full advantage of the situation. 

I move him back so he’s against the island, then I lift him up onto it. Our mouths break apart when he yelps in surprise, which makes me laugh. 

“Now you’re at my height,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes at me. 

“Be quiet and kiss me,” he says, pulling me in by my collar. 

Thank god for red wine. 

Later, when our mouths are swollen and we’re drunk off red wine and each other, we’re cuddled up on my couch in front of the fireplace. The tv is on too, but we’re not watching it. Instead, I’m lying on top of Snow, playing with the fibres of his jumper, and he’s running his hands through my hair. 

“We should have been doing this weeks ago,” he laughs, and I poke him roughly in the face. 

“Weeks ago we still thought we hated each other,” I tell him, and he lets out a long sigh. 

“I wish I had known,” he says, and I look up at him, bemused. 

“Known what?” 

“That you’ve had a crush on me since first year,” 

“...What?” I still. How does he know that? 

“Sure would have saved us a lot of time, you know. Would have made our lives easier.” 

“Snow,” 

“Yeah?” 

“What makes you think I’ve had a crush on you since first year?” 

“I’ve known this whole time, you told me,” 

“No, I am positive that I did not.” I say, sitting up sharply. He’s grinning, and it makes me uneasy. 

“Yeah you did, at dinner last week,” 

“Snow, I think I would remember--” I start, but I pause when I notice that he’s muffling a laugh with the back of his hand. “What?” 

“I’m fucking with you,” he laughs, trying to pull me back down. “Come here,” 

“Um, no!” I say, pulling me arm from his grasp. “Tell me how you know that!” 

“Penny told me that Agatha let it slip. She thought I knew already. She thought we’d talked about it,” 

“Why would we have talked about it? It took us two and a half weeks to kiss each other, for Christ’s sake.” I grumble. Snow laughs again, and this time I let him pull me down. I rest my head on his chest, and his hands start to draw patterns on my shoulders. 

“We should talk about it, though,” 

“About what?” 

“About this, about us,”

“Simon, I’d pay you a salary to invade every aspect of my life,” I say, propping myself up to look at him. “If you need a formal request from me asking you to be my boyfriend, then you haven’t been reading this situation properly at all.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, frowning. 

“What?” I still. 

“You beat me to it,” he smiles languidly, then pulls me in for a soft, chaste kiss. 

“You’re shameless, Simon Snow.” I tell him. 

“You like it,” he whispers against my lips. And he’s right, I absolutely do. 

When we break apart again, we both yawn, which makes us laugh. 

"I should probably get going," Snow says, sighing. 

"You're not staying? It's late," 

"I can stay?" 

"You don't have to--" I say, pausing. 

"No, no! I want to, I definitely want to." 

"Good." I kiss him lightly. "But before we sleep, I believe I was promised a gift." 

Snow smiles shyly, and I lean to the side so he's able to stand up, and I hear him rummage around in his bag. He comes back with a tiny box, neatly wrapped in brown paper. 

"Here you go," he says, handing it to me. "It's nothing crazy, but I wanted to get you something." 

I smile, and gently tear off the paper. Inside, there's a slim cardboard box. I open it to find a thick, metal bookmark with a deep red tassel attached to the top. 

"Flip it over," he whispers. 

Engraved, it reads: _“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” _

"Emily Brontë..." I whisper. 

"Because we match," he says, his voice still quiet.

"Because we match," I repeat. I can feel the prick of tears in the corners of my eyes, and I look to my ceiling in an attempt to keep them from spilling over.

"Are you cutting onions again?" he jokes, and I laugh and shove him gently, but he just steals my hand and kisses my knuckles. 

"Do you like It?" he asks quietly. I look at him, and nod once. 

"I love it. I love it very much." I say, and his features light up with glee. 

I can't stop myself from pouncing on him after that. 

Simon Snow is everything I've ever waited for, and everything I never thought I'd have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, as always, for reading! 
> 
> Remember--comments and kudos make my day! I usually put the chapters up right before I go to bed and I looooooove waking up to notifications in my email about new comments. Starts my day off juuuuust right *chef kiss* 
> 
> Next chapter should be up early next week. The semester is over so I have tons of free time to catch up and get ahead on these last few chapters. I can't believe we're more than halfway done with this! 
> 
> Okay, I'm done gabbing. Love you! See you next week!


	8. About Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Remember when I said "early next week"? I kinda lied. This week got away from me, as have all the weeks this month. December is flying by! Anyway, here's a tender new chapter, with a teeny-tiny bit of angst AND TW: Mentions of Abuse. Simon and Baz talk about David. You've been warned. There are quite a few little callbacks to Carry On in this one, guys. I reread it this week because I missed our boys and was looking for the motivation to finish this chapter, and I think it shows a little bit this time. 
> 
> Also: new chapters won't be posted until after the new year, because I'm going to Europe for two weeks and won't have much access to the internet. Also, Christmas. Sue me.  
So, just know that I'm taking a tiny break for the holidays, and will be back with the last two (!!!!!) chapters of this fic in 2020. 
> 
> Okay, please enjoy!
> 
> **Note: Hi! I updated the chapter count, so there's actually going to be THREE new chapters coming up next. I ended up changing the outline dramatically, so now chapter 9 will be the “end”. However, chapter 10 & 11 are epilogues of sorts, so keep that in mind! Ok, I'm out**

Waking up next to Simon Snow is a lot like what I’d imagine heaven looks like. 

I thought I’d peaked when I had him sitting in a booth in my place of employment, but having him breathing easy in my bed is so much better. 

I always wake up early, and even when I shift onto my side to look at him he still doesn’t stir. I could get used to this. I can hardly believe that I’m even allowed to get used to this. Simon Snow is officially my boyfriend. 

My loveable, highly affectionate, and endearingly adorable boyfriend. Who’s dead asleep in my bed with his curls fluffed against my pillows. I can’t possibly ever get enough of this. 

I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, since I’ve never had another person in my bed besides my siblings, but I slept just as hard as I normally do, if not better. 

Christ, I’m living a charmed life. 

  


I tentatively reach my hand up to gently brush a curl from his face, and his eyebrow furrows under my touch. 

“Good morning,” he grumbles, his voice raspy and breathless with sleep. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper, while running my finger from his cheekbone to his jaw. 

He captures my hand with his own, and without opening his eyes, pulls my fingers to his lips. 

“There are worse ways to wake up,” he smiles, finally cracking an eye open to look at me, “Hi,” 

“Hi yourself,” I reply, and I can’t help the blush that heats my face under his gaze. He’s so lovely; all tawny skin and sleepy movements, it aches knowing that I eventually have to leave this bed. It aches more knowing I have to eventually let him leave my sight. 

“What time do you have to work?” I ask, and his smile widens. He props himself up on an elbow and grins down at me. 

“I don’t,” 

“What?” 

“Took the day off,” 

“Snow—“ 

“Nuh-uh,” he says, putting his hand over my mouth. “No arguing,” 

I try to speak, but it’s muffled by his hand, and he laughs when I growl at him. 

“In a few minutes I’m going to get up and make breakfast, and I don’t want to hear a single thing about it,” he tells me, grinning mischievously. “If I take my hand away, will you be agreeable?” 

I cock an eyebrow, and he just laughs again as he lets his hand fall back to the mattress. 

“I find it interesting that you think I’d complain about getting you to myself all day,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes at me. 

“We both know that the responsible thing for us to do would be to go to work,” 

“Yes, but if you haven’t gathered already, I also took the day off. I wasn’t planning on doing anything today other than watching football and bothering you,” 

“Oh really?” He purrs, and leans down into my space. I lift my head to meet his lips with mine, and he hums into my mouth. It’s like doing drugs, kissing Simon Snow is. Or at least, I assume that’s what it must be like. It’s so easy to forget about everything else around us when we’re wrapped around each other like this, and I chastise myself for not making it happen sooner. 

Snow slides against me until we’re flush with each other from chest to ankle, and I can’t help but feel like we were made to fit together. He’s shorter than me, but has wider shoulders, and it doesn’t matter whether we’re standing or curled up, we fit so perfectly it’s almost as if we’re two pieces of the same puzzle. It’s horribly cheesy, I’m aware. 

Snow pulls away after a good minute, and nuzzles my neck gently under my ear. 

“Snogging or breakfast?” he asks, and I can feel the smile on his lips against my neck as he runs his mouth along it. 

“Is both an option?” I murmur, and a laugh rumbles through him. He lifts his gaze to meet mine, and runs a thumb absently over my bottom lip. It’s  _ distracting _ . 

“You’re insatiable, Pitch.”

“Only when it comes to you, apparently.” I sneer, and he frowns at me. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he says, but his eyebrows are still knitted together as he begins to play with the hem of my sleep shirt. 

“Snow,” 

“Simon,” 

“ _ Simon _ ,” I roll my eyes. “What are you frowning about?” 

“You’ve really never been with anyone else before? Like this?” 

“I did...once. Very brief. It didn’t work out.” 

“Why not?” 

I shrug. “We didn’t fit. I’m very busy.” 

“Are you? Don’t look very busy to me right now,” Snow smirks, nudging my jaw gently with his nose. 

“Don’t fish, Snow.” 

“I’m not! I just find it hard to believe that nobody has come along for you. You’re so--”

“Brash? Intense? Awful--” I joke, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Stop it, Baz. You’re none of those things, not really. That might be what you show other people but I’m starting to learn the truth,” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Really. You’re actually very kind,” he brushes a finger along my cheekbone. “And gentle,” then along my bottom lip, “And soft,” then along my nose. “But since you’re so posh and you look like you could be a right bloody vampire, the intimidating thing works for you. Worked on me for a long time, didn’t it?” 

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” 

“Getting there,” he hums, leaning down into me again, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he whispers: “This is much better than fighting.” 

I shut him up with my mouth. 

  


Agatha is working this morning, conveniently, so I shoot her a quick text while Simon brushes 

his teeth. 

“Fancy tea?” I call out as I walk down the hall, and I hear him shout a yes against the running tap. 

I pull two cups down, switch the kettle on, and lean against the counter as I wait for it to boil. Snow comes up behind me silently and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder, mirroring our stance from last night. He kisses my shoulder once. 

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asks. 

“I’ll eat whatever you can find in this kitchen to make,” I shrug, and he huffs as he pulls away from me and starts rummaging around my fridge and my cabinets. 

“I can probably do pancakes?” 

“I’m fine with that,” 

“Good, I know you like sweet stuff,” he grins, and winks badly at me when I turn to look at him. 

“How does that explain you then?” I reply, and he gasps. 

“So rude and it’s so early,” he feigns offense and comes back over to me, before planting a sloppy kiss on my mouth. 

“That’s much better without the morning breath,” I say, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Good thing I know this is all an act or I’d be walking home by now,” 

“If this wasn’t all an act you’d have been walking home _ last night _ ,” I tease, and he growls at me before backing away and pulling pans and bowls out of my cupboards. I love this. It’s leagues better than waking up alone and eating toast with my tea before work. There’s something remarkable about watching Snow flutter around my space like he belongs in it. How the early morning sun hits his curls just right that they shine like freshly polished copper, and how I’d kill to have my phone on me so I can try to capture it. 

A sudden knock on the door pulls me out of my Snow-drunk vision and I start, and he turns to frown at me again. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He asks, bemused. 

“Only my other boyfriend,” I smirk and he huffs, turning his attention back to the pan. 

“I don’t like that joke!” 

“How do you know it was a joke?” I call as I swing open the door to find Agatha, looking perfect and pretty, holding a paper bag. She smiles as I take it from her, and she winks at me before turning and walking back down the hallway. 

I close the door after her and when I meander back into the kitchen, Snow is flipping pancakes aggressively. 

“Special delivery,” I chime, and he turns, only to look more confused at the sack in my grip. 

“Baz, I am actively  _ making food _ ,” 

“Yes, well,” I say, before opening the bag and holding it to his nose. 

“Cherry scones?” I gapes. 

“Agatha brought them up,” 

“Agatha? Wait, Baz--” 

“What?” I ask, pulling a still-warm scone from the bag. I hold it out to him, but it doesn’t take it. 

“Agatha knows I’m here?” 

“I assume so, why?”

“That’s--” he huffs, and I can see the frustration on his face. “I don’t--” 

“Snow, it’s fine,” 

“It’s not fine, Baz! Agatha and I are  _ barely _ even friends right now, what is she gonna say when she finds out about us?” 

“Simon, stop overreacting,” 

“Flirting in the cafe is one thing, but dating? She’s going to think I had eyes for you the entire time I was with her. She’s your coworker, Baz,” 

“How astute of you,” 

“Can you not be an arse for five seconds?” he snaps, and I grimace at the tone. 

“Snow, if you would calm down and listen for a second, I can explain,” I say coolly, setting the scones down on the counter. 

“Go on, then,” 

“Agatha’s known since the beginning. Well, not the very beginning, but since the day I wrote your name on your cup. She’s been very supportive. She doesn’t think ill of either of us, thankfully, as I was afraid she’d snap my neck, and she surely doesn’t think I have anything to do with why things didn’t work out between the two of you. Honestly, I think for her, it’s old news.” 

“Wait, so she’s fine with it? With us?” 

“Yes,” 

“So I just went off on you for no bloody reason,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry Baz,” 

“I appreciate the apology, but I don’t need it. I understand the confusion, and I suppose it’s my fault as I should have explained it sooner. I will say, though, it’s not like we’re particularly subtle in the cafe,” I smirk, and he laughs quietly. 

He sets down the spatula and looks up at me through his full lashes. 

“I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he sighs. “But I’m trying.” 

“Trying you are,” I smirk, and reach to pull him in by the hip. “As long as you don’t burn those hot cakes, I’ll be willing to forgive you.” 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Baz?” he asks solemnly, looking away from me. He pulls out of my reach, and sets the last pancake down on the serving plate, shutting off the burner. 

“What are you asking, Snow?” 

“I’m just saying--” 

“Are you asking if I want to back out? If I don’t want to be your boyfriend after all?” 

“Well, Baz, I--”

“Simon Snow,” I say, and he looks up at me in surprise. I step toward him, grabbing both sides of his face, and look sharply down at him. “I waited three years for this. If you think I’m going to back out because of a slight misunderstanding, you’re far more mad than I thought you were.”

“Three years?” 

“Yes,” 

“That’s the entire time we’ve been at Watford. That’s longer than when I was with Agatha,” 

“I want you to be my terrible boyfriend, Simon. Please don’t ever doubt that.” 

“Okay,” he whispers, and I kiss him firmly on the mouth. 

“Now feed me,” I tell him, and shove a cherry scone between his lips before he can respond. 

  
  


After breakfast and the following dishes are finished, Snow and I are curled into each other on my couch once again. I think this might be my new favorite spot. The old chair by my window with the perfect natural lighting used to be my favorite, but I’m becoming partial to my couch, enveloped in my sweet, constantly warm, lovely boyfriend. 

In the back of my mind, there’s a little voice that keeps reminding me that I hardly know anything about Simon Snow. I don’t know where he came from, or who he was before he came to Watford. His past is a mystery to me, whereas anyone could look mine up in the local archives. It’s not everyday that a well known author dies in her own home, protecting her only child from a break-in gone wrong. 

“Will you tell me about care? Or about your foster family?” I ask quietly, running my hand through his hair. I regret it as soon as the words are out of my mouth. He should be able to tell me in his own time. I feel him go still, before hee lifts his head and frowns at me. 

“Why?” 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just realized I don’t really know that much about you,” 

“And you think my childhood is a good place to start?”

“Simon, you don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s--it’s fine.” he sighs. “They’re just not very fond memories for me, you know? I don’t like when they cloud up my ‘now’, when everything is so good.” 

“You don’t have to tell me, love,” I repeat. 

“No, I--I should. You should know,” he sighs, then sits up and leans back against the opposite arm of the couch. Our legs are still tangled together, but I don’t like the distance. 

“Care was fine, all things considered. I jumped around between a bunch of different homes in the area, and then when I turned eleven, a young man came to pick me up.” he starts, breathing deep and looking down into knotted fingers. I itch to reach out to him, but I choose instead not to in case I interrupt. 

“David was really nice at first. He gave me everything I wanted, anything I asked for. His house was huge and really old, and had all these neat hidden rooms and secret doors. My room was at the top of the house, basically in the attic, and I didn’t realize until much later that it was to keep me out of his way.” 

“Simon,” I say, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I watch him sink into the couch. He just looks up at me, and shakes his head. 

“It wasn’t until I was fifteen that things started getting weird. He’d keep himself locked away in his workshop all day doing God knows what, and then he’d emerge at night and demand I make him dinner. It’s actually how I learned to cook.” he shrugs. “I didn’t think much of it, and only really got spooked when he started stealing the hair off my comb,” 

“Wait, what?” I start, sitting up. “That’s disgusting.” 

“Oh, it gets worse.” he laughs sardonically. “David was a scientist, like, actually. That was his job. I don’t know the details, but it involved animals and genetics and all that crazy shit, and when he started stealing my hair I got really weirded out and tried to run away. He caught me a few hours later, since it was night time and I hadn’t had dinner ready when he came out of his workshop. He dragged me back to his house and for the rest of that year I was essentially his test subject.” 

“Wait, Simon, _ no _ ,” I start feeling bile rise in my throat. Who could do that to a child? 

“Yeah. He didn’t do anything too crazy to me, but he took my blood a few times and told me he’d make me ‘perfect’,” he air quotes the word. “It was real fucked, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“This is making me sick.” I mumble, and Snow nods at me. 

“Yeah, he was mad, that one. Genuinely,” 

“What happened? How did you get away from him?” 

“My teacher noticed I was feeling sick at school a lot, and when I even alluded to him taking my blood and shit, she called child services. They had me out of his house by the end of the day, and he was arrested for child abuse and neglect. It was insane. Then, I was put back into care homes and stayed until I was old enough to get myself out,”

“Where is he now?” 

“David? Probably still in prison, I don’t know.” 

“You  _ don’t know _ ?” I gape, and feel myself standing up to pace around the room. 

“Why does it matter to me? I haven’t seen him in almost six years, Baz.” 

“But he could find you, Simon, he could hurt you.” I say, worry laced through my words. How can Simon be so calm? 

“I’m an adult now, yeah? I can handle it.” 

“Simon, what he did to you--” 

“I know, Baz. I had years of therapy after all of that. I know what he did and how it affects my future. I’ve got a restraining order against him. He’s not coming anywhere near me.” 

“Simon,” I fret, and I hear Simon shift on the couch as I stare blankly out the window. 

“Baz, hey,” he says, resting a warm hand against the small of my back. I turn, and he pulls me into him. “David’s not a concern of mine. I don’t want you to worry. Plus, if he does try anything stupid, Penny’s got him on her shit list and she’s not afraid to kill him on sight.” 

“You were just a kid,” I whisper into his shoulder. 

“I know,” 

“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting my head and wiping my wet eyes. “This is your childhood, I don’t know why I’m the one crying. Christ,”

“Hey,” he says, drawing my eyes to his. They’re so blue, so deep I could drown in them, and he smiles at me despite just retelling his entire childhood horror story. “It’s really comforting to know you care so much about me. Thank you for getting it, Baz. Thank you for listening. I know it scares you. It scares me too, but I know that my life is so much better now because of all that shit. I never take anything for granted. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for not running.” 

“Running? Why would I run?” I sniff. 

“Because nobody wants someone who’s broken,” he says, and his voice cracks when he says it. 

“Simon, oh my god,” I nearly choke. “You’re not broken. I _ don’t _ think you’re broken. Please, if it were up to me I’d keep you all to myself and never let anything or anyone hurt you,  _ ever again _ .” 

Simon pulls me down into him again, and we stay like that until the sun starts to dip into the afternoon. Then, we find our way back to the couch and I wrap myself around him so tight I imagine fitting all of his little pieces back together. He sighs, melting into me, and nuzzles his nose against my chest. 

“Hey, Baz?” he whispers. 

“Yes?” 

“Since we’re being open, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I ask, slipping my fingers back into his messy curls. 

“I don’t want to scare you, but,” he starts, and I feel myself stiffen. “I think I’m falling for you.” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear it, and it seeps down into me like hot butter on a fresh scone. 

“Oh, Simon,” I sigh, and have to hold in the tears that beg to fall again. “I fell for you a long time ago.” 

He lifts his head, his eyes bright, and he surges up to kiss me on the mouth. 

“I know you did.” he smirks. 

  


Simon Snow, you’re going to be the death of me. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter. Writing about abuse is difficult for me, so I hope I did the story justice without fudging it up completely. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day, truly. I got soooo much love on the last chapter my little heart almost burst straight out of my chest. So thank you all so much for your feedback and your kind words. I love you! 
> 
> All, please have a safe and happy holiday season, and I will see you all in the new year. Bye!


	9. About Finality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Firstly, allow me to apologize PROFUSELY for the long wait. I had a fantastic holiday season, as I hope you did too. But when I got home from Europe I was thrust directly into a new semester and my workload is insane! So that's part of what delayed me. 
> 
> However; I also struggled a lot with how I wanted to "finish" this fic. Because, well, this is it. This is the last chapter of the main story. There will be TWO epilogues following this (no spoilers), but I was scared to finish this chapter because I love this fic so much and would write these versions of Simon and Baz forever if I was allowed. So scared in fact that I changed this chapter almost half a dozen times. But it's here! It's done! AHHH! 
> 
> With that being said, there will be some tiny ficlets that are already being written for this fic, that will possibly be posted sometime between now and the time I post chapter 11. Subscribe to me as an author if you want to see when those get posted! 
> 
> Okay, without any further ado, please enjoy.

**Simon**

** _June_ **

Fuck, time flies. 

A lot can happen in four months. 

Looking at myself in the mirror as I get dressed for graduation, I feel like I can see the changes, but I don’t look any different. I  _ feel _ different. I feel stronger, more confident. I don’t slouch, I’ve been taking better care of my skin and my hair per Baz’s incessant nagging, and it shows. And I’m healthier, in every sense of the word. It’s amazing what time can go. It’s amazing what love can do. 

“Simon! We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up!” Penny shouts at me from my kitchen, pulling me out of my reverie. 

“I’m almost ready!” I shout back, my hands still busy buttoning up my shirt. 

“What’s the problem?” She asks as she turns the corner and enters my bedroom, frowning when she sees me now fumbling with my tie. My  _ stupid _ bloody tie. 

“I just can’t get the knot right,” I grumble, pulling at my collar as the tie unravels itself again. “Baz would be so disappointed if he saw this right now.” 

“You don’t have to wear a tie, Simon.” 

“I absolutely have to wear a tie, Pen. It’s formal. We’re graduating,” I insist. 

“Yeah and we’ll be  _ wearing robes _ ,” She teases, walking over to me and extending her hand. I give her the tie and she smiles softly at me as she threads the tie around my neck again. 

“Still,” I tell her. “I want to.” 

“Baz asked you to, didn’t he?” She smirks. 

“No,” I blush. “Not exactly.” 

“Nevermind. I don’t think I want to know the intention behind the tie,” she cringes, pulling one end through the other. 

“You probably don’t,” I laugh in response, and she expertly weaves the tie together, before pulling it taut. She pats me once against my chest, then looks up at me. 

“Okay, you’re ready.” She says softly, her gaze fond and loving. We stay like that for a moment, reveling in the feeling, before we both exhale breaths we didn’t know we were holding. 

“Thanks, Pen.” I say quietly, and she nods once before turning towards the door. 

“Ready to go?” She asks. 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“Let’s go then,” she laughs, and pulls be along behind her. 

**Baz**

I never doubted for a moment that I’d see this moment. I never doubted that I’d be wearing these robes and walking across this stage. We always knew, my family and I, that I’d graduate, and that I’d be at the top of my class. 

But I didn’t think I’d have everything I have now. I didn’t think I’d ever be in love. I didn’t think I’d have someone to look forward to in the mornings rather than something. Being with Simon Snow has altered my future, my carefully built future, where everything was planned and familiar and safe, and I simply wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I’m early, as I’m making a very dramatic speech, and my friends are seemingly nowhere to be found. 

It’s almost time to start, when Bunce and Simon come running up beside me as all the graduates start entering the venue. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late,” Penny breathes, laughing gently. 

“I’m pleased you two decided to show up,” I sneer playfully, and Bunce rolls her eyes at me. 

“Simon had a situation with his tie,” she says. 

“His tie?” I ask, confused. Why would Simon choose to wear a tie? 

“It’s a whole thing, I guess.” She shrugs. 

“Listen, I just wanted to look nice—“ Simon interjects, but Bunce cuts him off. 

“Yeah, for your boyfriend,” She snorts. 

“We’re graduating from University and you wanted to look nice  _ for me _ ?” I ask, and Simon blushes. 

“It’s fine! We’re done talking about it,” Simon huffs, and pushes ahead towards our seats. Bunce just laughs, and nudges me in the ribs. 

“He just wants you to take it off him later,” 

“Penelope Bunce,” I bark. “So crude.” 

“Try to tell me I’m wrong, Basilton.” She grins. We move ahead to catch up with Simon, who’s already sitting down, frowning. 

“What’s wrong, love?” I ask as I sit on his left, and Bunce sits on his right. 

“Nothing,” he grumbles in response. 

“Is this because of your wardrobe choice?” I ask, grinning. 

“No,” Simon insists, but his blush returns in full force. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be of use later anyway.” I lean in to whisper, and I can practically feel his shudder under my breath. 

“I-okay,” he stutters, and I pat him gently on the knee. 

“You look nice,” I say normally, and he huffs a laugh, slouching back into his seat. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, smirking at me. It’s cute. He’s cute. And I will be making use of that tie later,  _ surely _ . 

“Guys,” Bunce starts, grinning wildly at us. 

“What?” Simon asks, his brow furrowed. 

“We fucking did it,” She says, and it makes Simon laugh loudly. God, I love that sound.

“Yeah, we fucking did,” he replies. 

“I’m so proud of us,” I add, and Simon smiles brightly before pulling us both into an awkward seated hug. 

“Me too,” he says, and it makes me smile. He releases us, before kissing Penny on the head and myself on the cheek.

I didn’t think there was any room left in my chest for love for Simon Snow. As usual, I was wrong. 

**Simon**

We’ve done it. We’re officially the most recent graduates of Watford University. Holy. Fucking. Shite. 

The ceremony was long, and of course Baz was asked to make a speech. But the time he spent talking was time I got to spend staring freely and openly at his face, made of sharp angles and dark features, watching him speak strongly and confidently about the future and about how much Watford means to him. I watched his elegant hands move gracefully as he talked about his dreams to follow in his mother’s legacy, and how he wanted his future children to understand the importance of further education. He looked at me when he mentioned kids. Tried not to overthink that one. 

When he was finished, Baz sat down beside me and held his hand on my knee for the remainder of the ceremony, which was the only thing that reminded me that it was real. 

I made it through. 

I did it on my own. 

I kicked down walls and leapt over obstacles and I came out on top. 

And I have so much to show for it. 

I have my family. 

I have Penny, Ebb, Agatha, and Baz. And Baz says I have his family too, but honestly, they terrify me and so does their house. 

When we get outside, the sun is low, and it’s not long before everyone’s parents and family will come whisk them away, and we won’t see each other as often anymore. Not without making plans. 

Niall, seemingly already on the task, asks, “Down for a pint?” And everyone stares at him. 

“Unfortunately we’re about to be hounded by my family, so we’ll have to pass,” Baz tells him, frowning deeply. 

“Yeah my parents are taking me to dinner,” Penny says. 

“I’m obviously related to that twat, so you know I’m busy,” Dev grumbles, shoving a thumb at Baz. 

“Snow?” Niall asks me finally, and I shrug. 

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing to do,” I tell him, but I feel Baz’s arm wrap around my shoulders as I do. 

“Simon,” he sneers. “The ‘we’ includes you, too,” 

“Wait I’m going with you?” I gape at him, and he frowns. 

“Yes? Why wouldn’t you be?” Baz says, confused. 

“It’s a family thing, though?” 

“And you’re my boyfriend. We both know Daphne will insist anyway. Do you not want to?” 

“No! I mean—I do! I just didn’t know,” I shrug, anxiety beginning to tug at my nerves. Baz’s family is great, they’ve been nothing but nice to me, but they’re just...so... _ intimidating _ . 

“Well, now you do. Here comes Fiona as we speak,” He says, just before she practically knocks us over with a forceful hug. 

“I’m so proud of you!” She shouts as she releases us, breathless from running. 

“Thanks, Fi,” Baz says, taking a deep breath. “Where’s my father?” 

“Ah, I lost Malcolm somewhere in the crowd.” She waves noncommittally. “He’ll catch up,” she laughs. “And look at you two! So handsome,” She pulls on my tie, and I feel my cheeks go red again. I should have skipped the stupid tie. 

“Thank you, Fiona,” I mumble, and she grins cheekily at us. 

“It’s so nice to see you, Simon,” She pats my cheek. “You lads ready to go? I can have Malcolm meet us by the car,” 

“We’ll not all fit in one car,” I say. 

“Astute of you, boyo. Damn good thing Basil also drove, innit?” She says, before pulling us along behind her. We wave to our friends and allow Fiona to drag us out to the car park. Penny looks at me and frowns, and I wave gently at her before mouthing ‘I’ll text you,’. She nods once, but her the crease between her brow deepens. 

“Baz!” We hear as we reach Baz’s jag, and we turn quickly to see Baz’s oldest little sister running up to us. 

“Hey, Mordy,” he says as he swings her up into a hug, and she laughs brightly as he swings her around. 

It warms my heart to witness just as much as it did the first time, because it’s unusual that Baz shows emotion with anyone, let alone his family. 

Mordelia giggles loudly as he spins her, and doesn’t stop when he finally sets her down. 

“Hi, Simon,” she says breathlessly as she wobbles slightly on her feet, using Baz’s sleeve to steady herself. 

“Hey, mini,” I reply, but she frowns at me. 

“Oh my god, for the last time, I am not Baz’s mini me!” She growls. 

Baz laughs as she storms off, saying, “She actually loves that nickname,” 

“Yeah, I know,” I hum, and he kisses me softly on my cheek. 

Fiona rolls her eyes at us. “Let’s go, yeah?” 

* * *

**Baz**

Dinner is a calm and pleasant affair, all things considered. You never know when it comes to the Grimms and Pitches who might cause a riot. Daphne found a lovely restaurant in Covent Garden where the courses are served in minuscule portions on massive plates, and I’m positive that Simon feels completely out of his element. Though he does look beautiful and ethereal under the soft golden glow of string lights and Edison bulbs. 

He’s been particularly quiet for the duration of dinner, though surely no one but me has noticed, and although he doesn’t look nervous or displeased, I can practically feel the nerves radiating straight off his shoulders. 

He’s still actively engaged in the conversation, replying and laughing, chatting amicably with my father and siblings as they barrage him with questions, but it feels distinctly  _ off _ . 

Every so often, I take the opportunity to steal a glance, and he looks sad, staring down at his fingers or smiling forlornly. 

When the third course finishes, I look over at him again and reach my hand across to his knee. His gaze flickers to mine, and he smiles softly. 

“Hi,” I start. “You alright?” 

“Yeah?” his brow furrows. “Do I not seem alright?” 

“You just look sad,” I tell him. What was left of his smile drops from his face, and he looks down at his hands again. When I take one of his hands in mine, his eyes meet mine again. 

“Can’t hide anything from you,” he laughs sardonically. 

“Simon?” 

“We can talk about it later, yeah? Let’s just enjoy dinner,” 

“Okay,” I answer, but worry has already settled itself deep in my stomach. 

“It’s nothing Baz, don’t worry about it,” he tells me. Can’t hide anything from him either, it seems. 

* * *

My family says goodbye to us later that evening after dinner, leaving Simon and I to walk around in the balmy evening air. He’s still quiet, but he’s holding my hand and smiling softly, so things could be worse. His shoulders aren’t as tight, and I don’t feel waves of anxiety rolling off him anymore. It seems as though my family took at all with them when they left. 

“Simon?” 

“I have somewhere I want to take you,” he says abruptly, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the walkway. 

“Oh?” I say, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead in surprise. 

“We’ll probably need a taxi,” he says absently then, glancing over his shoulder at the busy street. 

“Oh?” I say again, and he looks at me as he huffs a laugh. 

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” he smiles shyly, a blush lightly coloring his freckled cheeks and the tips of his nose. 

“I’d follow you anywhere, you know that,” I hum, leaning into him. He giggles quietly, and closes the distance, kissing me soundly. 

“Good then, because it’s a surprise,” he says against my lips. 

“Are we dressed for it?” I ask, before kissing him again. 

“Oh, I think we’ll fit right in,” he replies. “But we’ll need to stop snogging in the street if we ever want to make it there,” 

I laugh as I press one more kiss to his mouth, and then lean back to look down at him. 

“Fine, if you insist. But the night is young,” I say, and it makes him grin darkly. I’ve never seen mischief on Simon’s face, but decidedly, I love it. 

**Simon **

Getting Baz to Soho is the easy part. Getting Baz into the bar is also easy, but gathering up the nerve to dance with him is much harder than i imagined. With school and finals, we never got many opportunities to go out and actually have fun, as most of our “dates” consisted of movies and dinner in his flat, or lattes at the cafe before class. 

I’ll need tequila, on top of the wine I had with dinner, to coat these nerves. Good thing this place has some of the most excellent cocktails on this side of the Thames. 

“Where are you taking me, Snow?” Baz says quizzically in the back of the cab, and I frown at the nickname. “Are we in Soho?” 

“We are,” I nod once, smiling coolly. 

“Still not going to give me any hints?” 

“Nope,” 

“Torturous, you are,” he whines playfully, looking at me. 

“I think you like it,” I hum confidently, and his eyes widen. 

“I find I rather do, actually,” he replies. I simply continue gazing at him, rather than reply. He shudders almost imperceptibly before laughing once and shaking his head. “What are you up to?” 

The cabbie then pulls to a stop at the end of the narrow street, and I reach for Baz’s hand as he steps out of the car. 

“You’ll find out soon enough, follow me,” I tell him as I pull him down the pavement beside me. The street isn’t crowded, but the Saturday night parties are out in full swing. 

Soho is the queer part of London, and everywhere you look there are pride flags and neon lights, hanging above throngs of people young and old, dressed up and dressed down, enjoying the freedom and the environment. 

Baz looks around cautiously, and I laugh when I realize that  _ he’s never been here _ . I haven’t either, but I knew what to expect due to all my research earlier in the week. 

“Are we going to a gay bar?” Baz asks quietly as we pass a bar pulsing with disco music, and I laugh once. 

“No more questions,” I tell him and his eyebrows raise again. 

“Simon,” 

“Baz,” 

“Are we almost there?” 

“I believe that was a question,” 

“Simon!” Baz shouts and laughs, and it makes me smile. 

“Oh stop, yeah, we’re almost there,” 

Baz squeezes my hand tightly in retaliation, and after a few more steps, I pull him to a stop outside of a light blue building. He whips his head around to look at me, and I grin cheekily. 

“We’re here,” I say, and he doesn’t reply as I pull him through the door. 

The place is called Archer Street, and although it looks like a charming cafe on the outside, it’s actually a lively, experimental cocktail bar located in the heart of soho. The music is a pleasant mix of edm, throwbacks, karaoke, and UK top 40, so it appeals to any mood we might be in. 

Baz looks around blankly, but I can see the surprise knitted in his expression. 

“Celebratory shots?” 

“Sure...” Baz says cautiously, narrowing his eyes at me. I lead him through the thick crowd of people near the entrance to the main room, and we eventually squeeze our way through to the bar. I order two of something random that sounds equal parts refreshing and alcoholic, and lean back calmly as I wait. Baz is looking at me like I’m someone he’s never seen before, and I break out my brightest smile on him. 

“What has gotten into you?” He asks, his tone incredulous. 

“What?” I laugh in response, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders as he leans in close to me. 

“You’re being very alluring tonight and I’m having a hard time keeping up,” he whispers in my ear. Heat melts down my shoulders and pools low in my belly as he says it. 

“I think you’re doing just fine actually,” I reply, and he laughs once quietly before placing a kiss on my temple. 

“Can I ask about dinner yet?” He inquires carefully, leaning back to search my face. 

“Your family makes me nervous,” 

“Why? They adore you,” 

“Ack, you know,” I shrug. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t have to come with us,” 

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. I don’t fit in with that crowd people, Baz,” 

“Yeah and that’s a good thing. You’re the exact opposite of the kind of people I grew up around, and that’s what I love about you,” 

“Yeah, but Baz—“ 

“‘But Baz’ nothing, Simon. You belong is places like this, where people are laughing and sweating and being unapologetically themselves. I’d much rather be here, doing this, than anywhere where people are looking down their noses at each other,” 

“Really?”

“Without question,” He scoffs, laughing. “I promise.” 

“Thank you,” I mumble, and he kisses me chastely on the forehead. 

“Anything for you,” he hums. 

We’re quiet for a minute, comfortably embraced while we wait, and Baz visibly calms as I absently draw shapes into his back. When our drinks arrive, he’s already handed the bartender his card before I even have my wallet out. 

“Hey! This was supposed to be my treat,” I whine, and he just smirks as the bartender returns the card. He signs the check with a flourish, then slides it back across the counter. 

“Please, Simon. You  _ are  _ the treat,” He growls quietly, and my skin turns to goose flesh as his breath touches my ear. Together, we take the shots, and the strength almost makes me cringe. 

“Dance with me,” I say, turning quickly stepping away from the bar and out of his embrace. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he breathes, following me further into the room. 

The music is bass-heavy and loud. Mixed with the alcohol coursing through my veins, I feel confident, and with Baz’s hands on my hips as I lead us through the room, I feel  _ sexy _ . There are so many people here that by the time we make it halfway through the room and stop, when I turn to face him, we’re chest to chest. 

“I didn’t think this could get any better,” Baz hums, and I rolls my eyes at him. 

“Shut up,” I laugh, lifting my arms around his neck. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever danced like this,” 

“First time for everything,” I grin as the song changes, and we start to move. 

* * *

**Baz**

I don’t know what I did to deserve this. But if Simon Snow wanted to dance with me like that for the rest of my life, it still wouldn’t be long enough. 

We stumble back to my flat together, a bit past drunk but quite yet plastered, tripping over feet and pulling on sleeves. Simon’s hair is damp with sweat and humidity, and I can’t recall if he’s ever looked so fucking delectable. He’s smiling with all of his teeth, and he won’t stop glancing back at me and mumbling things I can’t hear. 

I know I’m smiling too, I can feel the curve of it on my face, but it feels different than usual. It doesn’t feel forced and faked or like it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. It’s all consuming--like the way I feel when I look at Simon, and I realize, for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually happy. Not just ‘pleased’ and ‘filled with joy’, but actually, unapologetically, happy. 

I look at Simon, and I feel warm. Warmer than I did the first time I heard him laugh. Warmer than the first time we kissed. My veins feel like they’re on fire and I don’t care. I’d let the world burn down if I got to keep my eyes on Simon for the rest of my life. 

I look at him, and I feel everything. 

I love you, Simon Snow. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. Your love and support means the world to me and I'm so thankful for all of my readers, especially the ones who keep coming back every time I post, the ones who leave meaningful comments, and the ones who go on to read my other stuff! I love ALL of you so much. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> Also, if you're interested, the bar I mentioned (Archer Street) is a REAL PLACE! And it's INCREDIBLE! I went there while I was in London in December and I danced on a table and honestly, I would love to do that all the time, always. Check it out if you ever find yourself in Soho :) 
> 
> I can't tell you when chapter 10 will be posted. If you want, you can come follow me on [tumblr](https://captain-sass-pants.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Ivrigasked), as I'm fairly active on both. 
> 
> Okay, I love you! See you soon!!


	10. About the Future - Epilogue One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting early because I’m gonna be super busy tomorrow, also it’s Valentine’s Day! So surprise, I love you. 
> 
> Also, another time jump, whoop! 
> 
> This one is a bit more significant, actually, as you'll figure out rather quickly. This was supposed to be chapter 9, but I changed my mind and wanted to include their graduation as it's own chapter rather than a ficlet like I'd originally planned. There will be another chapter after this, with a MUCH larger time jump. 10 points to anyone who can figure out why ;) 
> 
> This chapter makes me sad, but I love it. It feels like closure, moreso than chapter 9 did. I hope it feels the same for you too. 
> 
> With that being said, TW: character death, and I bet you can guess who (It's not Ebb. I couldn't kill her). 
> 
> Okay, please enjoy.

**Baz (_Decembe_r)**

This year has arguably been the best of my life. Since graduation in June, I’ve seen more progress within myself and my happiness than I have any of the last 21 trips around the sun. I want to say that I’ve made all of these great strides by myself, but that would be a lie. Much of the said happiness has been thanks to one lovely, bumbling dolt, with his bad grammar and his broad shoulders and his charming idiocy that makes me love him so much. 

I do love Simon Snow. I’ve loved him for longer than I can remember, probably. Even when I thought I hated him, I still loved parts of him. I love his voice in the morning, and how he wraps himself around me while we sleep. I love him when he’s whispering sweet nothings in my ear when we make love, in the safety and comfort of our beds. I even love him when he’s completely pissed and his words no longer make any sense, and I have to drag him home hanging off my shoulder. He’s relentless in his kindness and in the care he has for the people around him, and I don’t think I could love him more if I tried. It wouldn’t fit. My love for Simon is so big it threatens to burst right through my ribcage and declare itself to the world before I have the chance. 

He doesn’t know I love him. Well, I think he does, but I haven’t said it directly to him. I’m sure it shows in the things I do and say, but I haven’t been very forthcoming with it because, honestly, I’m afraid. The last time I loved someone this much, she was taken from me before I even had the chance to really know her. I don’t know what I would do if Simon was taken from me. If he met someone else and left me, or was in an accident, or just decided he didn’t want me anymore, I’m positive that I would combust. Combust from pain. Combust from heartbreak. I can’t handle it again. 

This isn’t to say I think Simon will leave me, I have faith that we’re it for each other. But we haven’t even been together a year yet, even though our anniversary is rapidly approaching, and I’m afraid that if I say out loud that I love him, it puts him at risk. I know, that’s a load of bollocks. But this is why I don’t let myself care about people that aren’t family. It’s too risky. 

One day, I’ll tell Simon I love him. I know I will. But for now, those words are just for me. 

**Simon **

Christmas is coming, and I have no idea what to get for Baz. We’ve been to the shops a hundred times to give each other ideas, but nothing feels right. 

I just want to show Baz how much I care about him. How much he means to me. How thankful I am that he didn’t hate me after all, and that I’m glad he’s let me in. I know it’s hard for him, to let people in. After what happened to his mum. He’s afraid to lose people, and I probably get that better than anyone. Life is so fragile, and crazy things happen to the people we love, and I know I’m on the list of people he doesn’t want to lose. We’ve spent enough nights alone together with our secrets to know that much about each other. There is a very short list of things I wouldn’t do to keep him by my side. I love him. Maybe I’ve loved him the whole time, I don’t know. But sometimes it’s suffocating. Since graduation, we’ve spent so much time together that I thought, surely we’d get tired of each other, but instead it seems like we just can’t get enough. 

For so long, the list of people I considered my family was very small, just Penny and Ebb and me, and for awhile, Agatha too. But now it’s longer, and the longer it gets, the more afraid I am of losing the people on it. It’s a terrifying thought, so I try not to think about it. I try really hard not to think about the things that scare me. Most of the time, it works. Sometimes, it doesn’t. 

Not thinking about David until this year was probably not the best thing I could have done. After I told Baz what happened, I thought I felt lighter, I thought the ghosts of him would stop haunting me, but they actually got a hell of a lot worse. A few days after Baz’s birthday, I was home alone and decided it would be a good idea to google deep-dive into what happened to David Mage. I was severely, severely wrong. The night ended with me sobbing messily into a pillow, and a week of my avoiding my lovely new boyfriend. Baz was less than pleased with that. 

David Mage is still in prison. But, he’s set to get out soon. I guess child abuse and neglect don’t keep you locked up for that long. Surprise. Baz says it’s probably fine, that I have nothing to worry about, not with the restraining order and everything, and he’s been put in prison in France, so it’s unlikely that he’d even come back to London after all the slander that surrounded his name after the incident. But...I’m scared. I’m scared less for me and more for the people around me. I’m scared for Penny and Ebb and Agatha and Baz. I’m scared for Baz’s family, if David finds out I’m involved with them at all, and I’m scared for what he might be capable of. He was a scientist, a well-known one at that, and the people in this city know him and some of them used to_ adore him _. Baz’s dad actually worked on a couple of projects with him in their younger years. Everyone knows him, which means I’d be easier than ever to track down. I don’t think he would, but who’s to say? 

Baz has been a beacon of light this whole year, and I just want to find a way to thank him for everything he’s done for me. But I just don’t know how. 

Baz is so lovely. Really, the wanker. Even without his tailored trousers and his perfectly combed hair, he’s utter perfection. When he wakes up and throws his hair in a bun or when he walks around his flat in nothing but joggers, I think my chest will explode. I can’t get enough of him. I never want to. 

I love him. I love Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch so much, I think it’ll kill me. 

**Baz**

“Baz,” I hear faintly. There’s a nudge at my shoulder. “Baz!” 

“What?” I reply absently, choosing instead to stare out the window of the cafe. The weeks surrounding Christmas are unusually slow, because all the uni blokes are on holiday, so Agatha and I spend our days scrolling through our phones and wishing we could close up early. It’s the day before Christmas Eve, and there’s not a soul in sight. Snow and I are set to drive up to Hampshire tomorrow for the holiday, and today is dragging because of it. 

“Basil!” she shouts this time. 

“What, Agatha?” I grunt, finally turning to look at her. Her pretty blonde hair is swept up into a sloppy bun atop her head, and it’s adding to her frazzled appearance. 

“Look,” she says, shoving the morning paper into my hands. The front page has a flattering picture of a man in a white lab-coat, with the headline ‘Renowned Scientist Found Dead, Days Before Release,’. The blood must leave my face because Agatha reaches out to keep me from collapsing. 

“Christ, is this David?” I whisper, looking down at the paper. 

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t read it, but it has to be him, right?” she says quietly. “Do you think Simon has seen it yet?” 

“I don’t know, Christ, I hope not,” I say, as a shudder rips through me. He shouldn’t be alone with this news. 

“Is he working today? I’ll call the shop to see if I can catch Penelope,” 

“I don’t know,” 

“Maybe call his cell?” 

“I don’t what to tip him off before I can get to him,” I say, and I can feel the panic setting in. I don’t know what Simon will do once he finds out, but I need to be with him when he does. Me or Bunce. Either way, he can’t be alone. Agatha stares at me, the phone held to her ear, and she nods once. 

“Penny, it’s Agatha, is Simon at the shop?” she says into the phone, and I can’t hear what Bunce says, but it makes Agatha sigh deeply. “Noon? Okay. If you have the local paper, hide it. Baz is on his way,” she says and then hangs up. 

“Well?” 

“He’ll be in at noon, so you better get a move on if you want to beat him to the shop,” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Go, Baz, it’s fine. I’ll hold down the fort while you save Simon from what could ultimately be very, very bad news,” 

“I owe you, seriously,” I say, before kissing her on the forehead and grabbing my coat. 

“Take care of him, Baz,” she calls out after me. 

I’m running through the streets of London toward Ebb’s bookshop. I’m sure I look like a complete dunce, but I could care less, I just have to beat Snow there. I round the corner, and it’s 11:57, so I pray he hasn’t come early. 

When I swing the door open, Bunce looks up at me from the front desk and frowns. 

“Basil? What’s going on?” 

“Do you get the morning paper?” 

“Yeah, but Ebb usually takes it upstairs. Care to fill me in?” 

“Didn’t want Snow to see it while he was alone,” 

“So you ran here?” 

“Yes,” 

“He gets the paper at his flat, you know,” 

“Penelope,” I say, still trying to catch my breath. “David’s on the front page of today’s paper,” 

“What? Why?” 

“He’s dead,” I tell her, and her eyes widen with shock. 

“What?” she says, and it’s barely a whisper as it passes her lips. “Oh my god,” 

“I know. That’s why I came. I’m hoping he hasn’t read it,” 

“Simon doesn’t usually get his news from the paper, thankfully. He should be here any minute, though, so you better figure out how you’re going to tell him,” she says. “It’s going to be rough.” 

“Thank you, Bunce. I’m fully aware of that.” I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair. Suddenly, the bell above the door rings out, and Bunce stills. I follow her gaze, and see Snow walking toward us. He looks at me, puzzled, but smiles anyway. He must have no idea. _ Fuck _. 

“Baz? What are you doing here?” he says as he wraps an arm behind my back. 

“I’m here to see you, obviously,” I answer, and kiss his temple gently. Christ, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be the bad guy. 

“Shouldn’t you be working? You are working today, right?” he asks, still looking at me with questions all over his lovely features. 

“Yes, but Agatha let me go early,” 

“So you came across town?” 

“Well, actually,” I pause, unsure of how to proceed. “I came to see if you wanted to get lunch, but when I got here, you weren’t in yet,” 

“Oh,” his face falls. “Sorry, Baz,” 

“You should go to lunch, Simon, I’ve got it,” Bunce says, smiling weakly. 

“Wait, what? But I just got here,” 

“Simon,” Bunce begins, and Simon looks between us. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, and I can feel his shoulders stiffening under my hand. “Is everything alright?” 

“We should walk,” I tell him. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Is everyone okay?” 

“Simon,” I sigh. 

“Why do you guys keep saying my name? What’s going on?” 

“Go with Baz, Simon,” 

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he says to me, and my heart shudders in my chest. 

“I will, love, but we should go home first,” I tell him, and he nods once before fetching his coat and following me out onto the pavement. 

“Is your family okay?” he asks once we’re walking back toward my flat. 

“Yes my family is fine, thank you for asking,” 

“Is Agatha alright?” 

“Simon, I will tell you what’s going on, but you have to be patient, please,” 

“Okay,” he says quietly, nerves laced within the word. He’s anxious, and so am I, and I’m worried that I’m about to shatter his entire existence. 

We’re quiet for the rest of the walk, but I can feel the tension coming off Simon in waves. When we finally arrive at my flat, I wave to Agatha through the glass before we enter through the door on the side of the building that leads to my stairs. She looks worried, but waves back. 

Once inside, Simon curls up on my couch, and I make us tea. 

“Baz?” he calls quietly, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay, Snow,” 

“Are we okay?” he asks, and my heart almost breaks at the sound of his tone, sad and worried. He thinks I’ve dragged him back to my flat to talk about our relationship, instead of his dead foster father. Fuck, I just wanted to protect him from shit like this, not expose him to it. 

“We’re perfect,” I tell him, while I bring the two hot mugs over to the table. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong now?” He asks gently, watching me as I move. 

“Yes,” I say, and I walk back over to the door to get the paper from my stack of mail. It feels like lead in my hands, but I need to show him. He needs to see it sooner rather than later. 

I go back to the couch to sit down beside him, and I can feel his eyes on me, still watching me warily. 

“Simon, before I show you this,” I start, “I need you to know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” 

“Baz, just show me already, dammit,” he says, and tugs the paper from my gasp. His eyes scan the page, and his brow furrows. “What is this?” 

“Simon,” I start, but he shakes his head. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Simon,” I say again, but he doesn't hear me. 

“I don’t understand—how is he—he didn’t even—“ he stutters as his eyes flutter around the page. 

“You don’t have to read it, love, I just wanted the news to come from one of us. Someone you trust. I didn’t think you should be alone when you found out,” I tell him gently, resting my hand on his bent knee. He sighs haggardly, and I can practically hear the tears welling up inside of him. 

“How did it happen?” He whispers. 

“They found him in his cell yesterday morning. He had hung himself, somehow. He left a note,” 

“What did it say?” He asks, and my heart clenches. 

“I don’t know. I—I didn’t read the whole article,” 

“Okay. I guess I should probably read it then,” he says, as his wide eyes sweep up to meet mine. He looks bewildered, near crazed, and I worry for the reaction he might have to it. 

“Simon, I don’t think---”

“I need to know what it says, Baz,” Simon tells me firmly, his brow creasing with anger. “You don’t get to keep it from me,” 

“I—“ I pause, waiting, but his expression doesn’t change. “I know, love. I wasn’t trying to. Just please be careful.” 

Simon reads the article quietly for a few minutes, his brow furrowing deeper and his jaw tightening. 

“He’s sorry,” He gapes. 

“What?” I ask, and I watch him warily as he moves away from me and rises from the couch. He walks over to the window, and leans against the frame. I reach for the paper and start to skim. There’s no picture or quotes from the note, but the article says it was an apology written to 'someone named Simon’. 

“That’s fucking rich,” he laughs sardonically from where he stands by the window. “He’s fucking sorry? Sorry for which part? Sorry for trapping me in my room and starving me half to death? Sorry for experimenting on me without my consent? Sorry for treating me like a test subject instead of a son? Jesus fucking Christ—“ Simon sobs, pressing his head against the glass, and I watch quietly as his past crumbles around him. I don’t know what to do. I think I want to hold him, hold the pieces together, the pieces I thought we fixed during our conversation in February, but I’m not sure he’d want that right now. 

“Simon, love, what do you need?” I ask quietly, and I hear him take a deep breath. 

“I thought for sure he’d get out,” he says against the glass. 

“What?” 

“I was so scared, Baz. I read an article that said he was being released before Christmas and I wasn’t sure if he would come back to London or not. But nobody knows who he really was, no one except for me. I was so scared that he’d come for me and find out about you, and Pen, and Aggie. I was scared that he’d come after us, and he’d somehow involve your family. He’d make you all hate me, I just know it.” 

“Simon,” I say sternly, and he turns to look at me with wet eyes. 

“What? Is that really so ridiculous? You don’t know what he’s capable of, Baz,” 

“It _ is _ridiculous. There is nothing on this planet that could make me turn against you, Simon. Especially not some psychotic scientist who tried lab-ratting his foster son,” I scoff. 

“Baz, you don’t understand—“ 

“No, you don’t understand. Simon, listen to me,” I say, rising from the couch and walking over to him. Instinctually, I raise my hands to his neck, and force him to look at me. 

“Baz,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Simon Snow, there is nothing that could take me away from you. I would never leave unless you asked me to, and even then it would tear me apart. I love you, Simon Snow. I have, for a long time. Even if David hadn’t died and he had come after you, all of us would have been on your side, especially my family. They love you, even if you don’t believe it. You’re safe with us. I just want you to understand that,” I finish and Simon just gapes at me, his jaw open. 

“Really?” He asks, his eyes tearing up again, and he tries to blink them away. 

“And it’s not just me and my family. It’s Bunce and Wellbelove and Ebb too, you know,” 

“Baz,” Simon says, placing a hand on my chest. 

“Christ Simon, I’ve never seen someone as loved as you.” 

“Stop,” he sobs, laughing breathlessly. 

“Seriously, we will always protect you. I promise,” I tell him and he looks at me, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks again. 

“You’re not helping the crying, you wanker,” 

“I’m not trying to, love,” I say, and he lets out a long breath, before walking back to the couch and slumping into it. 

“I think I’m relieved,” Simon says after a moment. “I’m sad, for the part of me that loved him as my father, but I’m relieved for the part that hated him. Which was most of me, honestly. I don’t know what I would have done if he came back here, Baz. I might have killed him myself for all I know,” 

I go to sit next to him on the couch again, and say, “I probably would have helped,” 

“Yeah, so would Penny,” he laughs. 

We stay silent for a few minutes as Simon lets the news seep into him. I can still hear him sniffle every couple of seconds, but at least he’s not sobbing anymore. He’s accepting this as reality, and it didn’t do nearly as much damage as I thought it might. I thought he might scream, or break something, or run away from me like he did in March. 

I trust that Simon acknowledges his support system, even if he doesn’t believe it’s true. It will take time, healing always takes time, but I know we’ll get there. 

And we’ll get there together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I know I've gushed a billion times about how grateful I am for all the love on this fic, but really. You guys are great. We almost reached 2k hits after I posted chapter 9, so I'm excited to see if we'll pass that milestone by the time I post this one. 
> 
> We only have one chapter left. I am SO sad about this. But like I said in the end chapter notes for chapter 9, there will be some ficlets for this. I already have two different ones in mind, so keep an eye out for those, and follow me if you want to know when those are going to be posted. 
> 
> Also, you can follow me on [tumblr](captain-sass-pants.tumblr.com), if you like, as I always post chapter updates/new works there too.


	11. About the Rest of Your Life - Epilogue Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here, y'all. The last chapter. These boys are gettin' hitched! 
> 
> Admittedly, this chapter made me cry. I'm not sure if it's the wine, the fact that this fic is now finished, or the fact that I just wrote vows for two different characters I have grown extremely attached to, but my eyes be d a m p. 
> 
> Like I said before, there will be some ficlets to accompany this story, so it's not completely over yet! There's still more from these lovely lads. 
> 
> In this chapter, there will be tears. There will be reminiscing. There will be wholesome, heartfelt words. 
> 
> Prepare yourselves, because the gangs all here. 
> 
> Let's GO!

_ 4 years later:  _

**Baz **

I think a lot about my life from an objective perspective. Who would I be, had I not made the decisions I had during college? If I had followed my father’s footsteps instead of my mother’s? If I hadn’t learned to trust, to love, to forgive. If I hadn’t let people in. If I hadn’t focused on my studies. If I hadn’t written a book. If I hadn’t written another book after that. If I hadn’t had classes with Simon Snow for our entire University careers. If I hadn’t fallen in love with him, and trusted him with my heart and my fears. If I hadn’t asked him to marry me. If he hadn’t cried, and said yes. If we didn’t buy a house together. If I wasn’t standing here, in that house, a week before my wedding, staring at my future husband as he sits in our lounge, drinking beer and watching football. If I wasn’t witnessing him as he eats crisps, and as the crumbs fall between the cushions of the leather couch my mother bought us as a housewarming gift. 

Simon was a terrible boyfriend. Terribly affectionate, terribly soft, terribly generous and lovely and kind. In the same sense, he’s also a terrible fiancé. Terribly thorough with wedding plans and guest lists and decorations. Terribly cautious as to not stress me out, and terribly gentle when he rubs my hands at the end of a long day of writing. 

I used to think my love for Simon wouldn’t fit inside me. That it would burst through my ribs, shred my lungs and my heart to pieces, because I was so sure that loving him would kill me. And in a way, it did. The Baz that existed before Simon is long gone. The Baz that didn’t love himself, the Baz that was afraid of his past and scared to disappoint his father, the Baz that was terrified that he couldn’t live up to his mother’s legacy. 

After Simon, during Simon, with Simon, I wake up feeling warm. Every day, like there’s a fire burning in my gut, broiling and everlasting. I spent so many years alone and freezing, that after Simon came bounding into my life, it took awhile for the feeling to settle. The anxiety of new love nearly crippled me, nearly sent me spiraling, but Simon brought me back down every time. He always does that. Brings me back down. 

Now, I always think the love I have for Simon will stop growing, but it pushes against my ribs every time he laughs and smiles and blushes. It presses against my sternum and makes me wince, every time he kisses me or wraps me in a hug. Every time he rests a hand on my knee while we’re in the car, and every time he holds my hand. 

When I sit down next to him, his eyes don’t leave the tv but he wraps a firm hand around my thigh, and I feel it. The push. I love Simon Snow. I love Simon Snow, and I think it killed me a long time ago. 

  
  
  


**Simon **

Baz might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he knows I do it, but I love watching him. Watching him eat, watching him read, watching him drink coffee, laugh, or watch tv. I love watching him talk books with Penny, or about life with Mordelia. Or when we visit his family, I love watching him play with the twins. I love witnessing the marvel that is Baz Pitch, this infuriatingly wonderful person, who turned my life upside down and shook me loose. If you had told me five years ago that I’d be marrying Baz Pitch in a week, I’d laugh in your face. But it’s real, it’s happening, and it’ll be the best fucking day of my life. 

When he asked me, I cried. I broke down into deep, cathartic sobs, and Baz thought for sure that I was going to say no. We were in Spain last summer, and I was crying so hard because I didn’t know this could happen to someone like me. Someone from a broken childhood, without much of a family. To be in Spain with someone who loves me, celebrating his second book release, exploring the city and the culture and the food, without a worry or a care in the world. And to be proposed to, in a foreign country if all places, after a romantic dinner and a walk through the night markets, took my breath away. Baz was abnormally quiet for most of the night, and I just thought he was anxious to be somewhere new, but the whole time he was just waiting for the right moment to pop the bloody question. 

We had the best sex of my life that night, I’ll tell you that much (After I was done crying, that is). 

The last four years have been very good to me. Every step Baz and I have taken together has solidified our relationship, and solidified my trust in myself and in him. We both freaked out when we bought our house. I told Baz it was ridiculous that he would use the money from the sales of his first book, but he insisted. We have a cute two story in Chelsea, and Baz has a library that I always can find him in. It’s home, really and truly. There are rooms for all of our friends and family, and I love it most when it’s filled with people. 

Ebb gave me the bookshop as a late graduation gift. She said she was getting too old and wanted a place where she knew she could always find me, so she signed it over to me and now, it’s mine. I never changed the name, couldn’t bring myself to do that, because I love it just the way it is. But, Baz and I spent a summer reenforcing the shelves and refinishing the stairs, so it looks brand new. We host annual release parties for Baz’s books. It’s perfect. 

I’m sitting in our lounge on the most comfortable leather couch I’ve ever put my arse on (thank you, Daphne), watching Chelsea play Liverpool, and I can feel Baz watching me. It’s comforting to know he does it too. He doesn’t know I know, which I find bloody hilarious, because he thinks he knows everything. But I feel him watch me, and I feel his love radiating through the room, bouncing off the walls, and right into me. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d pick him every time. Without a doubt. 

* * *

**Penny**

The Simon I knew at Uni is not the Simon standing before me now. This Simon, this grown-up, bookshop owning Simon, is thriving. He’s positively glowing from the inside, and it’s bloody infectious. I stare at him as he buttons up his shirt, and when his eyes flicker to mine in the mirror, he lets out a small laugh, and it makes me smile. 

“You’re getting married,” I whisper, and he giggles and wiggles his eyebrows at me before covering his face with his hands. 

“Please pinch me,” he says quietly. 

“I won’t, and stop touching your face. Aggie will kill you if you fuck up your hair,” 

“I know, I know,” he says, before turning to face me. “Help me with my tie?” 

I stand, picking up the maroon tie that matches my dress, and slip it carefully around his neck. 

“Last time I tied your tie, we were graduating,” I say quietly, and he smiles down at me, blushing. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m already about to cry,” he says, and I laugh softly.

“There will be plenty of time to cry when you see Baz,” I tell him, threading the tie together. 

“Oh my god, Pen,” he says, his voice breathy. 

“Yeah, I know,” I hum. 

“I’m  _ getting married _ ,” 

“Yes, I know,” I laugh, and I see him reach for his ring in my peripheral. 

“Nervous?” 

“No—no, I’ve never been more sure about anything,” he tells me, “I just don’t like not having it on.” 

“Give it an hour, would you? You’ll have it back in no time.” 

“And Baz will have one too,” he whispers, and when I finish with the knot, I place one hand over his heart. 

“I’m so proud of you, Si.” I say, and he grabs my wrist. 

“Penny, stop,” he warns. “I  _ will cry _ ,” 

“Okay! Fine, I’m done,” I raise my hands and back away from him. 

“Go check on Baz, would you?” 

“Sure,” I reply, kissing his cheek before I leave. “Put your jacket on.” 

He laughs, and pulls the navy tux jacket from the hanger. I wink at him as I shut the door behind me, but I can’t control the excited, girlish squeal that bursts from my throat. 

My best friend is getting fucking married. 

  
  
  
  


**Agatha **

No one on this earth dresses better than Baz Pitch, this much is true. He could be dressed in a paper bag and still look dashing, but this grey wedding tux might be the finest thing I’ve ever seen him in. He looks lovely, donned in dark grey and maroon. The colours they chose for the wedding are perfect; navy, grey, and maroon. We’re at the Grimm estate up north, and the late spring weather is perfect. Today simply could not be any better. 

When I met Simon, I didn’t see him as the marriage type. And when I met Baz, I thought the same thing. Who could have predicted that they were only two loose ends, flailing wildly alone, needing to be joined together in order to survive. 

When I say I’m happy for them, it’s an understatement. I’ve never seen Baz look so healthy, so bright, so  _ smiley _ . It seems as though that’s all he ever does these days. Smile. He smiles at children and at birds, at puddles of dirty water and dark shop windows. Baz Pitch is sick in love, and it’s so, so beautiful. 

He’s doing it now, smiling at himself in the mirror, and I’m watching him quietly from my chair in the corner of the room. A soft knock pulls me out of my revere, and Penny is standing behind the door when I open it. 

“Hey,” she whispers. “He doing okay?” 

“I’m fine, Bunce, thank you,” Baz says, adjusting his tie in the mirror for the hundredth time. “You can come in,” 

“Thanks, sorry, Baz,” Penny laughs nervously as she enters the room. “Simon asked me to check on you,” 

“Did he? Is he panicking? Or is he just making sure I haven’t run for the hills?” 

“I think he just wants to be sure  _ you’re _ not panicking,” Penny tells him, sitting in my recently vacated chair. I make myself busy by fussing with my hair, watching Baz warily in the mirror as he thinks. 

“No, I don’t think I’m panicking,” he frowns. “Do I seem like I’m panicking?” 

“It’s alright to be nervous, you know,” I say, and he turns his head to glare at me. Then, his expression changes to something softer, and his fingers come up to brush his chin.

“I appreciate the concern, but I am not nervous. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life,” Baz says, nodding once. 

“Funny, that’s what Simon said,” Penny laughs gently. 

I turn to look at her, and see that her eyes are a little dewey. She meets my gaze, and I can’t stop the wave of emotion that washes over me when she taps her wrist. 

“Baz?” I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me when I turn to him. “I think it’s time.” 

Baz flushes then, runs his hands down the front of his jacket, and squares his shoulders. 

“Okay,” he says, and it’s barely above a whisper. “Let’s go,” 

  
  
  


**Simon**

When Ebb comes to get me, I’m pacing the room in circles. Penny didn’t come back after I sent her to check on Baz, and now I hear violins and my heart is threatening to beat right out of my chest. 

“You okay, Simon?” Ebb asks me, and I nod once. 

“I’m good, just excited.” I tell her. 

“Well come on then, let’s get you out there,” she smiles, before taking my arm in hers and leading me out of the room. 

Baz will be at the altar when I walk. We decided he would go first, because he said he wanted to watch me walk up to him. I let him have it. After all, I get to watch him for the rest of my life. 

**Baz **

Tears threaten my eyes long before Simon makes his appearance. I know Dev and Niall are waiting to see if I’ll cry, because they know it’ll be the only time they ever see it. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but that’s not where they should be. They should be watching the house, for when Simon finally emerges. I just know he’ll look beautiful. Navy blue is his colour, and he looks so handsome in a suit; a perfectly tailored wedding tux is no exception. 

Life didn’t prepare me for moments like these. Moments of overwhelming emotion. 

But I know where to look. 

And I know what to do. 

I’m about to marry Simon Snow. 

**Simon **

I hear the violins get louder as we walk down the long hallway toward the door to the backyard. Through the windows, I can see our family and friends sitting in chairs, but I can’t see Baz yet. He’s at the altar, behind the trees. 

He’s completely hidden from my view until I reach the start of the aisle. When I look up and finally meet his eyes, it’s like everyone else fades away. That’s cliche, I know. But it’s true. He’s so stunning, like I always knew him to be, and my heart can’t take it. Neither, apparently, can my eyes, because the tears that have been welling behind them all day start to fall. 

I walk slowly, deliberately, toward where Baz is, waiting for me. It feels like ten thousand kilometers before I reach him, but when I finally do, I see that he, too, has tears on his cheeks. His eyes, normally a shining grey, are bright and shot through with blue. 

Our minister starts the ceremony and Baz grabs my hands, and we listen and recite as he guides us. Soon, it’s time for vows. 

Baz and I pondered saying vows for a long time. We thought about using an old family binding ritual from his side, suggested by his father, but in the end, we decided it would be better to write our own. It would be more personal, more  _ us _ , and we knew for certain they would definitely make us cry. Too late for that though, I suppose. 

“Simon Snow,” Baz starts, and he squeezes my hands. “I knew when I started writing these, that I would never be able to do justice to the things I feel for you. Writing vows, and saying them out loud, is more daunting than anything I’ve ever done. This is more emotion than I’ve ever shown anyone except you, in my twenty-five years of life. So forgive me if the things I’m about to say seem out of character, because I’m doing this almost entirely for Daphne’s benefit,” 

The crowd laughs, and Baz grins wickedly down at me before continuing. 

“It’s no secret that you are the love of my life, Simon. You have been, since I walked into that classroom that first day of our first year at university. Everything you do, you do with such brute force it’s a wonder you haven’t gone completely nuclear. I’m inspired by you, awed by you, and enamored by you. But nothing, not a single thing on earth, compares to being loved by you. You are my very best friend, and I wouldn’t trade this love for anything, even another book deal. When we met, I tried so hard to keep my distance from you, because I knew if I ever lost you, it would wreck me. But here we are, almost eight years later, and the only thing that could make my life better, is getting to spend the rest of it with you. So thank you, Simon, for bursting into my life, burrowing yourself deep in my bones, and refusing to come out, no matter how many times I may have tried to make you leave. You are my favorite blessing, and my favorite curse. Asking you to marry me, was the best thing I ever did, and that’s indisputable. I love you so much, Simon.” 

The crowd claps loudly when Baz finishes, and I actually have to tell myself to close my mouth before Baz gets the chance to do it for me. His vows are exponentially better than mine, prick. 

“Basilton Pitch,” I start as the clapping comes to a stop, and Baz frowns at me, but doesn’t say anything. “Baz,” I say again, and he rolls his eyes. “Your vows are better than mine, like I knew they would be. You know I’ve never been one for words, that’s why I keep you around. But when I sat down and thought about all of the things I love about you, and about us, and about the time we’ve spent together, I couldn’t think of a single thing that was better than the rest, because every moment of my life spent with you is my favourite. The sound of your fingers hitting the keys on your laptop when you’re writing is my favourite sound to fall asleep to, and those same hands, wrapped around a mug and a book, is my favourite thing to see in the morning. I love your laugh, and your eyes, and the way you talk to your family. I love your smile, and your heart, because you are the most genuine person I know. You’re so smart, it’s baffling. You wake up every day and do new things that amaze me, and I know you’ll never stop. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Baz. It’s why I always choose you. It’s why I always have. It’s why I always will.” 

Baz blinks twice when I stop, and his expression is filled with emotions I hardly ever see on his face. Wonder and astonishment, to name a few. 

“Have I made you speechless?” I whisper, and he laughs into a hand he releases from mine to wipe his eyes. 

Our minister finishes out the ceremony, and announces us husbands, before our entire group of family and friends burst from their seats. Penny hollers, Agatha whistles, and Dev and Niall start barking, for some reason unknown to me. It’s so  _ weird,  _ but it’s so us, that I can’t imagine this day going any other way. 

Baz Pitch is my husband, and now he’ll never get rid of me. 

**Baz**

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the warmest person. But Simon is a furnace, my own personal flame, and he’s making me warmer every day. 

When my mother died, I never thought I’d be able to find that feeling, that comfort, in another human being. But Simon’s always been there, buried right beneath my skin, right where I need him. 

I came to my family’s estate this morning as Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. I’m leaving it as Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch-Snow, which frankly is just _ too many names _ , but I couldn’t bring myself to shed any of them. I have a little bit of my mother, a little bit of my father, some of me, and now, some of Simon. I have a feeling this is how it was always meant to be. 

And I think my mother would be very proud. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading. I love this fic. I love our boys. I love writing vows?????? 
> 
> As you all know very well, I love comments, so please, let me know what you thought of this chapter, of this fic, or of anything in general. I love reading them! 
> 
> Please feel free to come join me on [tumblr](https://captain-sass-pants.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Ivrigasked), as I'm fairly active on both of those sites, and I would love to interact with more fellow writers! Please come say hi on either of those platforms, I would love it!
> 
> Lastly, please also feel free to check out my other works, as I just finished a cute teacher AU! 
> 
> Okay, I'm done. Thank you so much for your everlasting support and kind words. You all mean so much to me, and I mean that, seriously! 
> 
> See you soon! <3


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